Skip to main content

Full text of "A treatise on the art of painting, in all its branches; accompanied by seventy engraved plates, and exemplified by remarks on the paintings of the best masters .."

See other formats


* V-*- 




saai 



mim 



im 



m 



1817. 



/^4,/,'\A 11 




/ ' .■<". 



A TREATISE 



ON THE 



ART OF PAINTING, 



IN ALL ITS BRANCHES; 



ACCOMPANIED BY 



SEVENTY ENGRAVED PLATES, 



AND EXEMPLIFIED BY 



REMARKS ON THE PAINTINGS OF THE BEST MASTERS, 

ILLUSTRATING THE SUBJECT BY REFERENCE TO THEIR BEALHES 
AND IMPERFECTIONS. 



By GERARD DE LAIRESSE. 



REVISED, CORRECTED, AND ACCOMPANIED WITH AN ESSJl] 

BY W. M. CRAIG, 

PAINTER TO HER MAJESTY AND THE DUKE AND DUCHESS OF TOBK. 



IN TWO VOLUMES. 
VOL. II. 



LONDON: 

rUBLISIIED AND SOLD BY EDWARD ORME, 

PUBLISHER TO HIS MAJESTY AND HIS ROYAL HIGHNESS THE PRINCE REGENT, 

BOND STREET, CORNER OF BROOK STREET. 

1817. 



M 
mo 



CONTENTS.- Vol. 11. 



BOOK VIl.— Ol- PoilTUAITtRE. 

CHAP. T.— Of PortraitH in niM.cial - ■ ' 

CHAP. II.— Of llic Defects ill the Face and otlier 1 arts 



CHAP. II.— Of tlie Defects in the Face and otlier 1 arts - - 

CHAP. m.-The Observal.les in a Portrait, ,,articuiar y t hut of a Wom.ir, - 

CHAP. IV.-Of tl.eCM.oico of Lights, Draperies, and Cirounds u. a I ortrait, and 

cIIaP: vi^>i^rii;ii;il!;;on o^ wilh .....'a to thediOerent ConJitions 

I'ersons ---"."" 

CHAP. VII.— Of the snitini? of Colonrs in Draperies - " " r',.„- 

CHAP. Vlll.-Of the Imitation of great Masters la painting Portraits ; and ol copji 

their Pictures in general - - " " ' 



r«oa 
J 
5 

8 

II 
16 

10 
22 

23 



CIIAP. 
CHAP. 
CHAP. 
CHAP. 

CHAP. 

CHAP. 
CHAP. 
CHAP. 
CHAP. 
CHAP. 
CHAP. 
CHAP, 
CHAP 
CHAP. 



BOOK VIII. — Of Ak( hitecture. 

I.— Of Architecture in nencral - - ', , ■ n i i ] 

11 —Of the Ui^es of the Ornaments, Columns, and their 1 edestals 

111.— Of the Property of a Building, and Observations thereon - - 

IV.-Of the Matching of the various coloured Marbles, as well without as within 

a IJuil.lin.. ; witli tT.e INIanageinent of Tombs, Vasa, and BacchauaUan Terms 
v.— Of theVeinsand EyesiifStones used in Architecture, as well without as 

within ; and iiow to dispose them --■"'' 

VI. — Of Ruins - - - " " /.'tt II Tj 'j8r« 

VU.— Principal Directions for painting the Ornaments of Halls, Kooms, &c. - 
Vlll.— Of the Pictures proper to various Apartments - 7 , ,'. , 

IX.-Description of several Pictures adapted to the five Orders in Architecture 
X —Of the Pictures in the second Story, built after the Doric Order 
XI.— Of the Pictures in the third Story, built after the Ionic Order - 

Xll —Of the Pictures in the Iburth Story, built after the Uon.an Order - 

Xlli.— The Fable of Calisto, adapted to the Corinthian Order, in the upper Story 
XIV.— Description of the inward View of the Temple of Apollo 



BOOK IX.— Ok the Painting of Ceilings, or Plafonds. 

CHAP. 1.— Of Ceilinii-paintino in general - - 

CHAP. II.— Of the usual Difficulties in Ceiling pauiting . . - - 

CHAP. III.— Of fore-shortening Objects in Ceilings . - - - - 

CHAP, IV.— Of the Sizes of Ceilini? Figures ■, _" .' ,,' n v ' 

CilAP. v.- Method for viewing a Ceiling-piece on the Easel, as if on the Ceiling 

CHAP. VI.— Of designing after the Life, for the Use of Ceiling Painters 

CHAP. VII.— Of the colouring of flying Figures ^ . " „„ ,, "„ •' o., 

CHAP. VIIL— General Observations in Painting the Ceilings of Halls, Galleries, &c. 

CHAP. IX.— Method for Drawing fore-shortened Buildings, Figures, Irees, &c. atler 

the Life - - - ' . --. "i- u' 

CHAP. X— Of the Harmony and Inion of Colours in Ceiling lieces ■ - " 

CHAP. XI.— Of the Deities in sacred and prolane Hi>lory and tables; and, first, ot the 
Difl'erence between a sacred and profane Representation - 

CHAP. XII. Disquisition touching the Representation of the Trinitv 

CHAP. XIII.— Of the Glories proper to Angels and Heathenish Deities 

CHAP. XIV.— Of the Representations of Angels and Heathenish Genu 

CHAP. XV.— Of sacred Emblems - - - " - ■ " 

CHAP. XVL— Of the Penates, Lares, and Cupids . - - - - 



28 
31 
32 

36 

30 
41 
\2 
45 
51 
63 
71 
78 
S7 
91 



93 
9i 
95 
96 

98 

ib. 

101 

102 

106 
lOS 

110 
112 
117 
119 
192 
126 



iv CONTENTS.— Vol. II. 

FAOS 

CHAP. XVII.— Devotional Actions of Nature .-..._ Igg 

CHAP. XV III.— or the difterent Offerings of Nations, and their Rites - - 134 
CHAP. XIX.— Of the Sacerdotal Dresses, Vessels, and other Materials belonging to 

Oll'erings --_..-... 147 

BOOK X.— Of Statuary. 

CHAP. I.— Of Statuary in general ....... 152 

CHAP. II.— Of the Execution of Statuary - - - - - - 134 

CHAP. III.— Of Bass-reliefs - ' 155 

CHAP. IV. — Of the Force, Property, and INIanagement of Bass-reliefs - - . 160 

CHAP, v.— Of the Draperies of Statues and BasVreliefs - - - - 162 

CHAP, yi.— Of the Attitudes of Statues - - - . - - 166 
CHAP. VII. — Of the placing of Figures upon Pedastals, Frontispieces, in Niches, and 

other Places ......... 169 

CHAP. VIII.— Of the Usefulness of Modelling - - - - - 173 

CHAP. IX. — Of the visual Decorum of a Statue, with its Pedestal, as well within as 

without Doors : as also the suiting of Vases and Busts ... 175 

CHAP. X. — Of the Ornaments of the Frontispiece of Temples, Houses, &c. - - 176 

BOOK XL— Of Still Life. 

CHAP. I —Of Still Life in general 178 

CHAP. II.— Designs for Bass-reliefs proper to Still Life - - - - 180 

CHAP. Ill — Representations of Still Life, applicable to particular Persons . - 184 
CHAP. IV. — Of the Origin, Nature, and Quality of the Roman Triumphal Crowns, and 

other Rewards of Honour .-...-. 20? 

CHAP, v.— Of the Solemnities of the Roman Triumphs - - - - 207 
CHAP. VI. — Of the Manner of the tour principal and public Grecian Games, and to 

whose Honour instituted ....... 213 

CHAP. VII. — Of the Military Dresses and Arms of several Nations, particularly of the 

Greeks and Ronians ..-.__.. 223 
CHAP. VIII. — Of the Origin of the several Ensigns and Shields and their Devices, for 

Distinction of Nations and particular Persons . . _ _ 229 

BOOK XII.— Of Flowers. 

CHAP. I— Of Flowers in general - - . - - . - S39 
CHAP. II. — Of painting Flowers in Halls, Apartments, Galleries, but principally on 

Ceilings tor Ornament ,.._--. 241 
CHAP. HI.— Tliat a Flower-painter should understand Perspective : also the Mistake 

of representing Things improperly ....-- 242 

CHAP. IV.— Of Flowers on all Sorts of Grounds - - - - - 243 

CHAP. V. — Of the Disposition of Flowers and their Colours in Festoons and Groups - 244 

CHAP. VI. — Continuation of the ordering and placing the Flowers - - . 247 

BOOK XIII.— Of Engraving. 

CHAP. I— 250 

CHAP. 11.— Of the Art of Engraving in general - - - - - 251 
CHAP. HI.— Of the general Elegance requisite in a good Print; and of the Difference 

between Book and other Prints .._.._ 252 

CHAP. IV.— Of the Difference of Engraving and Etching - - - - 253 

CHAP, v.— Remarks on Hatching 257 

CHAP. VI. — Curious Remarks concerning Stippling . . _ - . 259 

CHAP. VII.— Of Etching Bass-reliefs - - 261 

CHAP. VIII.— Of Engraving, and the Management of the Strokes . - . 263 

CHAP. IX.— Of the Black Art, orMezzotinto - - - - - - 268 



THE 

ABT OF FAINTING. 

BOOK VII. 
OF PORTRAITURE. 



Emblem. Concerning thtXreatment of "Portraits. 

S^ ATURE, represented by her many breasts, is sitting. Near her stands a child 
lifting her garments off her shoulders. On her other side stands Truth, holding a 
mirror before her, wherein she views herself down to the middle, and is seemingly 
surprised at it. On the frame of this glass are seen a gilt pallet and pencils. Truth 
has a book and palm branch in her hand. 



CHAP. I. 

OP POKTRAITS IN GENERAL. 

feiNCE we meet with no presidence in the art, nor pretend to ns st on ceremonies, 
we shall treat of things as they occur to us, and as clearly and profitably as possible. 
But first, give me leave to say, that I have often wondered how any man can pre- 
fer slavery to liberty, and, by departing from the essence of the art, subject himself 
to all the defects of nature. I speak of such great masters as Van Dyk, Lely, Van 
Loo, the old and young Bakker, and others, who though possessed of great talents in 
the art, postponed what is noble and beautiful, lor T?hat is more ordinary and com- 

VOL. II, B 



2 Of Portraiture. 

moil. The truth is, and we have seen, tliat sooner by this means tlian others, men 
have obtained the honour of gold medals and chains, &c. Nay, the liberty of pre- 
fccribing laws to princes ; staring them in the face, drawing their pictures, and many 
other privileges, whereby they have acquired great riches. What an uidieard-of 
reward did not Apellcs receive, when Alexander gave him his dear Camjxtspe, in 
order to save the life of that great artist, by satisfying his love, inflamed by drawing 
the picture of that beauty ! When I consider these things, I am surprised that all 
painters do not devote themselves wholly to portraiture; since now-a-days money is 
preferred to learning, lucre to virtue, and honours dispensed to men in proportion to 
their riches. But, leaving this subject, we will proceed thoroughly to consider every 
thing relating to that branch of the art. 

As in music and singing a good ear is requisite, so in portraiture it is impossible to 
excel without a good eye; such an one, I mean, as is governed by sedate and sober 
sensation, ami not by self-love or passion. Next is required a regular design, con. 
taining an exact proportion or division of the parts, not only of the face, but of the 
•whole body, that the sitter may be known by his picture, which may be most agree- 
ably done by mixing the fashion with what is painter-like; as the great Lely did, and 
which is called the painter-like or antique manner, but by the ignorant commonality, 
the Roman manner. 

Next; we must be thoroughly judicious in the graceful choice of the light, and the 
place where the person is to sit, that the face may appear to the best advantage 5 
and then the body is to be disposed to the most natural and becoming posture. 

The next business, and which gives it the greatest lustre, is, the colouring, that 
each person and his parts may have their proper colour, and such as appears in his 
daily converse ; not such as proceeds from extraordinary emotions. Let the artist 
beware of inclining to any particular manner, like some, whose work is thereby 
better known to be theirs, than the friends of the sitter know the picture to be his. 

As for the choice of light, in order to apply it most advantageously for the benefit 
of either sex, it is certainly a matter of great moment ; since the fair sex commonly 
partake of more delicacy and grace than men, so they must have a light as beautiful 
and agreeable as their persons. 

But ere we proceed further, it will not be improper to look into the origin of por- 
traits, in order thereby to shew the aim of those who cause themselves to be drawn, 
and the prolits which masters get thereby. 

The ancients used to cause those, from whom the commonwealth had received 
extraordinary benefits, either in war or civil affairs, or for eminence in religion, to 
be represented in marble or metal, or in a picture, that the sight of them, by those 
honours, might be a spur to posterity to emulate the same virtues. This honour was 



Of Fort >fi it inc. '3 

first hegiin uilli their deities : aftrrvvards it was paid to heroes, and of consequence to 
philosophers, orators, rehgiouH men, and others, not only to jierpetnate their virtues, 
but also to emhalni (lifir names and men)ories. lint now if f^oes furtlnr ; a person 
of any condition whatsoever, have he but as much money as the painter asks, 
must sit for his picture : this is a great abuse, and sprung from as laudable a cause. 

In noblemen ind<;e(l it is a very connnenda])le custom ; because, being descended 
from great families, the lustre of these ought to shine, to encourage their successors 
to keep up their glory, and to prevent sullying it by unworthy actions. 

As for -ji geiicral or admiral, who has died in the bed of honour, gratitude, I think 
obliges us to raise a moninnent to his glory, and to animate Itravesoids in future times, 
to imitate his virtue. But what is this to the vulgar; pride only spurs them to it. 
The rich do it that their children may boast of it; the master of a numerous family 
does it, that the world may know he is a father: he who has fired a magazine of the 
enemy nnist be drawn, with this great action, though perhaps there was nobody to 
hinder him. Has a citizen's wife but an only babe, he is drawn at half a year old ; 
at ten years old he sits again ; and, for the last time, in his twenty-fifth year, in order 
to shew her tender folly; and then she stands wondering how a man can so alter in 
that time. Is not this a weighty reason ? A reproveable custom, if painters did not 
gain by it. But, again, portraits are allowable, when a lover is absent from his 
mistress, that they may send each other their pictures, to cherish and increase their 
loves ; a man and wife so parted may do the same. 

But to return to the original matter: I must warn the artists not to yield too much 
to what is common ; or humour ignorant people so much, as not to reserve to them- 
selves some liberty of doing what they think proper for the sake of reputation: 
surely this cannot be strange advice; for a master who prefers money before art has 
no more dangerous a rock to split on, since the ignorant multitude usually insist to 

be drawn according to their own conceits. One says to a good master, " Draw 

me thus, or thus; let me have one hand on my breast, and the other on a table:" 
another must have a flower in his hand, or a flower-pot must be by him ; another 
must have a dog, or other creature, in his lap ; another will have his face turned 
this or that way ; and some who would be drawn in the Roman manner, must be set 
off by a globe or a clock on the table, whether such ornaments be proper or not. On 
mentioning the Roman manner, I find that it signifies a loose, airy undress, somewhat 
favouring of the mode, but in no wise agreeing with the ancient Roman habit. 

But many other inconveniences attend portraiture; as first, the ignorance of those 
who sit; for some of them, having no right notion of their own mien and shape, often 
refer the judgment of a fine portrait to the eye of a child, or servant; and what they 
say, Monsieur and Madam believe, either to its praise, or discommendation. 

B 2 



4 Of Fortraiiure. 

A second iiiconveniency arises from a vodded iiiclinatiou which any one has io 
such and such objects ; judging as they like or dislike, not only of pictures, but 
even the life itself; for though they may be afraid to pass sentence on a tine history 
or landscape, yet a portrait nuist not es^cape them, as thinking it within the reach of 
their capacities. 

Thirdly, we find many artists never pleased with other mens works, but being full 
of themselves despise every thing they see, though as good as their own ; and this 
perhaps on no better foundation than a pique against the artist; or else because of 
his great fame : and yet if ten persons happen to applaud a fine picture of tliis en- 
vied master, they will at that juncture chime in with them, to screen their prejudice. 
And, on the contrary, if but a single person afterwards find fault, tliey immediately 
turn the tables against ten others. Again, if a |)iece of their friend bo brought in 
question, though never so faultj% tliey will applaud and justify it at any rate, 
though agahist their own convictions of conscience. But this partial and prejudiced 
humour is most prevalent in those who know least. 

A fourth set of men are those, who, being always of an mieasy temper, dislike 
their own, but applaud every thing other men do : these, indeed, are not so noxious 
as the former, because they only hurt themselves, whereas the others hurt every 
body. 

Fifthly, there are a prejudiced set of men who find no taste but in easy and grave 
airs and postures ; others in stirring and hurrying ones; others in violent ones : some 
think that womens draperies ought to be loose and soft ; others will have them of 
velvet or satin, or else party coloured : this thinks that a dark or brown ground best 
sets off a figure ; another cliuses a landscape, or green curtain, right or wrong. Are 
the colours beautifully chosen, the picture smells of them; are they broken, they 
seem muddy and foul. How can a portrait please so many opinions ? It is not like 
a history full of figures, where we can introduce variety of sedate and stirring action, 
more or less beautiful colouring, loose to set draperies, dark or light grounds, &c. 
Because thisis but a single figure. 

Our business, then, must be to find a|way between Si/lla and Charyhdis, to enable the 
artist to paint a good portrait ; for he who makes due reflection on every thing, cau 
prepare himself to overcome the aforesaid difficulties. 



Of Tortraiturr, 6 

CHAP. II. 

or THE DETECTS IN THE FACE AND OTHER PARTS. 

J. ME defects, wliich are seen in nature, or in simple life< are three-fold. 

1. Natural ones. 

2. Accidental ones. 
.?. Usual ones. 

The natural ones are, a wry face, squint eyes, wry niontli, nose, &c. 

The accidental ones are, loss of an eye, a cut on the cheek or other part of llif 
face; pits of the small pox, and the like. 

The usual ones are, those habits to which we accustom ourselves from our infancy; 
to wit, contraction of the eyes and month, or closing, or gapitij;- of the latter, or 
drawing- it in somewhat to this or that .side, upwards or dowuwards, &:c. 

As for other bodily infirmities, how many have wry necks, hunch backs, bandy 
'legs, withered or short arms, or one shorter than the other ; dead or lame hands or 
.'fingers? among these, some are unavoidable, and others maybe either left out, or 
handsomely concealed. The necessary ones ought to be seen, because they help the 
likeness ; such as a wry face, squint eyes, low forehead, thinness and fatness, a wry 
neck, too short or too long a nose, wrinkles between the eyes, ruddiness or paleness 
of the ciieeks, or lips, pinipks or worts about the mouth, and such hke; among 
those \\hich may be hidden, or left out, I count a blind eye, a wound, wen, mole, 
pits of small pox, too many pimples, &c. a red, blue, or hairy spot ; as also habitual 
usages ; such as hanging lips, pinchings or drawings of the mouth and eyes. 

I think, also, that the common and usual dress of a person is a great addition to 
likemss ; lor no sooner is the dross altered, but the look does the same, and shews 
itself either more or less pleasing and agreeable ; and thereby the person becomes 
more or less known ; to obviate which, I advise the artist above all things to get first 
a true likeness of the face, and paint it to the sitter's satisfaction ; and then he may 
freely manage all the rest as he thinks fit, and thereby get honour and commendation ; 
since the life itself in such a dress cannot any more alter. 

The painter should likewise discover and know, as much as possible, the nature 
and temper of the person sitttng, and in what circumstances lies his favourite plea- 
sure ; that he may, wlien sitting, be entertained with talk pleasing to him, and his 
air thereby kept steady and serene, and his posture natural and easy ; avoiding 
every thing tending towards sorrow or frightful relations ; for these are apt to ruffle 
the mind, and so to discompose the face, that it cannot easily be got right again i 



fc) Of Portraiture. 

but if the sitter himself do by his talk discover his own disposition, the painter 
ought to humour it to the last, whether if be jocose or moderate, without exag;i,era ion 
or diminution ; yet with such a variety, as not to prove tiresome, and make the face 
alter. 

He who cannot thus manage and furnish out a discourse, will be the longer ere he 
arrive at the likeness. Some will even sit three or four times, and each time with 
a diflerent air ; and, were they to sit ten times, I fancy something new would still 
appear. 

Another hindrance may be, that painting-rooms are often hung with such smutty 
pictures as frequently put females to the blush, or alter their countenances. But 
though, for improvement, fine pictures are necessary to be always in view, yet in a 
paiuting-room there ought not to hang the wanton picture of Mars and Venus caught 
by Vulcan ; or Dinas bathing, though done by Van Di/lc, or Joseph and Potiphars 
■wife ; for though these may hang in a corner, yet when the eye has once observed 
them, it will retain them; because their ideas make continual impressions on the 
mind, even against its will ; and therefore the bare remembrance of such things 
must put a young and chaste virgin to the blush. Must it not create a longing, to 
see a picture of two beggar-boys fall greedily on ripe fruit, the one eagerly biting a 
piece of fresh melon, and the other a bunch of grapes, with the juice falling down 
his chin ou his naked breast ? the room then should be hung with every thing 
modest, as fine landscape.'i and iiower-pieces, which will amuse the sight without 
disturbing or tiring the mind, or altering the countenance ; fine portraits will also 
animate a sitter to keep him serene, and make him emulous of tlieir manners : a 
large looking-glass may be likewise of service, if so hung that the sitter can see him- 
self in it ; for, thereby discovering any disagreeableness in his look, he will correct 
himself, in order to have as good an air as he desires ; and by such methods as these 
a painter may become great. 

We will now proceed to consideJ" how many mistakes some painters commit in 
relation to the first observation of natural defects ; these endeavour, to their utmost 
power, to express punctually the deformities and defects of a face, without scruple ; 
to wit, a bhnd or defective eye, or the like, though they know that it is an enemy to 
grace, and on no other ground than a false belief that it creates a greater likeness. 
But who loves to be reproached with his defects, when they can be artfully hidden? 
what would become of grace, which teaches, that a painter should make as beautiful 
a choice as possible; which these blemishes obscure. I think,, therefore, that we 
cannot lay too great a stress on what concerns the make; position, and turn of a face, 
that the eye be not offended with bleniish, or deformity, or the posture look dils- 
acrrceable. 



Of Vortraituvf. 7 

I|ovy monstrous is thp picture of a certain ndniiral, who seems to stfib himsolf witii 
hi^ staff of coirmiaiid, and Ijus a defective eye turned directly to the light •, hecauio, 
according (o tiie saying, he is best known by it. Woidd not a more profile view 
havp, suited hjp» better, or to have flung the side with the blind eye into sJiade^ 
would it not be ridiculous to paint the Duke of Luxemburg in profde, to rcpnis^nt 
him the better, and that liis huncii-back might be the more \isible, for no olhrr rf-a- 
son, than tliat most people knew ho had one ? 

Nature abhors deformity, and we cannot behold it without aversion, and a quick 
turn of the eye from it: a squint-eyed person cannot see himself in the glass vnih- 
out inward trouble ; especially one of the fair sex, who, in other respects, tolerably 
handsome, cannot bear to see an instance of her deformity in another, but will basJi- 
fully look off or down to the ground. How much worse then must it look in a pic- 
ture? the life maybe sometimes seen on a handsome side ; which in an ill chosen 
picture we can never expect : whence it is natural for one who has a blemish or 
defect in an eye or cheek, always to turn the best side to the light. In short, we do 
not desire to do any thing, walk, stand, sit, talk, but with a becoming air. Have 
we sore eyes, we hide them under our hats ; or if a lame hip, we endeavour to walk 
briskly ; have we some humour or pimples in a cheek, we either hide them with a 
patch, or paint the other side like it ; have we bad teeth, we keep the mouth shut ; 
or a lame hand, and hide it not under our coats, or in our pockets. If nature acts 
so, how can such defects please in a picture? such a flattery then as is agreeable to 
art, is not only allowable, but commendable, especially when the sitter is so disposed 
in posture, that the painter himself caimot perceive it. 

Ask any one who wears a piece of black silk over an hollow eye, whether he de- 
sires 10 be drawn from that side ; I believe not. A person with a wooden leg cares 
not that tlie deformity should appear in a picture : such a one ought to be drawn 
in half length only : but if the hero insist upon the introducing such a leg, on a sup- 
position that it is an honour to have lost a limb in his country's service, the painter 
roust then comply with his desires ; or else contrive it lying on a table covered with 
red velvet: if he desires it after the antique manner, it must be contrived in a bass- 
relief, wh> rein the occasion of it may be represented ; or it may hang near him on a 
wall, wiilt his buckles and straps, as is done in hunting equipages; or else it may 
be plac< d among the ornaments of architecture, to be more in view. But what praise 
or advantage will an artist get by this, when a judicious master sees the picture? 
he may perhaps plead in excuse, that the sitter would have it so. This indeed I 
cannot argue against, because we usually say to whom we employ, Do as I would 
liave you, right or wrong. We have an instance of a gentleman, who being drawn 
in little, and comparing the smalluess of the eyes with his own, asked the painter, 



8 Of 'Portraiture. 

■whether he had such ? however, in compliance, and for his pleasure, he desired that 
one eye at least might be as big as his own ; tlio otlier to remain as it was. A sad 
case ! a miserable subjection ! for thongh we cannot compel others to be of our opi- 
nions, yet I pity those who niust submit to incongruities. But, not to dishearten 
the artist too much, we w ill proceed to, 



CHAP. III. 

TJIE OBSERVABLES IN A PORTRAIT, PARTICULARLY THAT OE A 

WOMAN. 

OELF-coNCEiT and self-love seem natural to all, but especially to the female sex ; 
■who, whether their pictures are drawn on their own accounts, or through the desire 
of others, imagine they deserve such homage ; nor stops it here — for although they 
may possess a tolerable sbai-e of beauty, yet that is not satisfactory enough ; they 
must be flattered, and their pictures painted in the most beautiful light ; and un- 
happy is the painter who abates but half a drachm of such a beauty. 

For these reasons the master is obliged to have a principal regard to light and 
colour; but to the light chiefly, since it is well known that nothing gives greater 
oflfeuce to ignorant people than shades, and still more, when they are strong and 
broad : they believe they speak to the purpose in objecting, well, how can it be pos- 
sible that my neck and cheek should have such large shades, when I daily consult 
my glass, and find my skin all of a colour and white ? and then the painter is blamed. 
But are not such reasons weak and absurd ? since, if a man, how tenacious soever, 
meet another, who, by long absence and alteration of dress, is got out of his memory, 
he will naturally turn him to the light, in order to know him and his features. This 
conduct has been wonderfully observed by Harocci in his picture o{ Mary paying a 
visit to Elizabeth when big with child ; in w hich, by his method of placing the 
figures, and the attention of the faces, we seem to hear them talk, looking earnestly 
attach other. 

1 think those masters have made the best choice who have chosen a front-light, 
and tiiereby kept their colours most natural and beautiful ; since this light is cer- 
tainly most advantageous, whether the picture hang against a wall, or Avliere else. 
But here seems to arise a difliculty, since we formerly said, that we ought to fix a 
certain place, and the point of sigiit and distance, and to dispose the light so as it 
can full on that place ; to which the answer is easy; portraits have no fixed place, 
as we shall further shew in another chapter, as also how far and on what occasions 
we must confine ourselves to that rule. 



Of Portrailure. 9 

The l»cfil way to scUlo lliis point is, fo follow those who liavc rlio«fn tlifir li;^lit 
almost fronting, and, as before "Said, such a colouring as naturally appears to the 
eye, hesides a good choice : sinc(! I think the case of ])lacing a portrait to he the 
same as that of curious china, which, whetlier it stand high or low, shews itself every 
where beautiful. My reason for this is, that objects, which have such a front-light, 
have an exceeding iin*; efl'ect, and great relief, w hen they coruc against a dark ground ; 
and still finer w hen the light falls on thcoi somewhat from on high, if the sitter and 
some accidents do not hinder it; in which case, reason and our eye must best direct 
us. View but this lineness in a posture painted leaning over a batch, or out at 
•window, and what great decorum the touches and shades about the most relieved 
parts cause in such an object ; as L-eonardo da Vinci has well observed. 

Of the accidents w hicli I just now spoke of, I shall mention two or three : some 
persons may be too long and sharp-nosed, or too hollow-eyed ; for such a low light 
is most proper; but where it is otherwise, a high light ; in this manner a judicious 
master ought to help the defects of nature, without adding to, or taking any thing 
from them : yet, to the sorrow of impartial masters, the contrary is too much seen ; 
for, as I have said, that history-painters chuse and follow what they have the greatest 
inclination for, so it is with many portrait-painters, their work is better known by 
their particular manner than the sitter by his picture. 

Permit me here to make a comparison between those two great masters, Titian 
and Van Dyk, with respect to the judgment I have heard made on their works. 
Of the latter it is said, that m the design, grace, and choice of a portrait-figure he 
was the most skilful : nevertheless I have seen many of Titian's (who, in most mens 
opinions, has the greater reputation), which seemed to me incomparable, though less 
agreeable : here my position, about the particular choice of masters, takes efl'ect 
again ; because I think, that the defect in agreeableness is peculiar to Titian's coun- 
try, and limits his choice, and therefore he is the less culpable ; when, on the con- 
trary, our region prefers what is gay and elegant before the majestic and grave ; and 
likeness is the chief object both of the sitter and the artist, every thing else being 
looked on as by-works and ornament : a poor judgment methinks of people of sense ! 
for if a portrait have not, besides likeness, an agreeable disposition, the little know- 
ledge of the master will presently appear. It is true, that we meet with many odd 
faces in the life, especially among vulgar and clownish people, yet I say that, be they 
ever so rude, agreeableness should be observed in their pictures. By agreeableness 
I understand the disposition of a postui-e in general ; as w hen the face has an ad- 
vantageous turn more or less to the light, up or down, in order to create handsome 
shades, and to shun unbecoming ones ; for every face requires a particular observa- 
tion ; one, a high light ; another, a low one ; this, a side-light ; that, an almost liont- 

VOL. II. C 



10 Of Vortvalture. 

ing one: I speak not yet of many other requisites, such as the sway of (he neck, 
shoulders, or breast ; or of a proper l)ack-|2.rouud : all which considerations are 
essential to a hne portrait, as uell in respect to the naturalness and colour, as to 
the motion : hut of the light aiul back-grounds we shall say moi'e in the next 
chapter, and now return to our ron)parison. Some think that Van Dijk's paintings 
are but \\ ater<olours comjvarcd with Titian's, whose pictures have so much force 
in colouring, lights and shades, that those of the other cannot stand in competition 
with them ; nay, that his colouring is inimitable, and whereby that of Van Dyk 
appears faint and weak : a ridiculous opinion indeed ! However, that Va%i Dyk 
and Titian differ much in colouring, I allow ; but nevertheless think, that we need 
not run to the Ilalians to prove it, since, if the stress lay in strong colouring only, 
Rembrandt need not give way to Titian. But whence arises the mistake? Most 
men chime in with those simple judges who approve no histories, landscapes, or 
portraits, that are not painted in the Italian manner. My opinion is, that the 
whole of the matter lies more in the difl'erence of climates than in the styles of the 
masters ; for let an Englishinan's picture hang near an Italians, botli painted with 
equal skill, and each given according to his hue and nature, there will appear a 
great difference between them ; the sweetening softness of the Englishman will charra 
as nuuh on one hand, as the strong and glowing colour of the Italian on the other. 
On which of these two pictures has the master bestowed the most pains? Are not 
both praise-worthy, as having each expressed the character natural to his figure? 

But not to go abroad fur comparisons, with respect to particular claims, our 
own low country affords diflV-rences enoiigh : two brothers, of the same parents, are- 
born in the same town and hour; one of them is brought up to the swortl, and 
endures all the fatigues of war, and the incommodities of hail, snow, wind, rain, 
sun, smoke of salt-petre, &c. whereby his complexion is altered, and becomes 
swarthy. The other brother, contrarily, is educated in saloons, fine apartments, and 
tender conversations, by which means, time cannot so much affect him ; each sits 
for his pictiu-e to a separate and good master ; now these two pictures being brought 
together, will the painter be censured for the difference of tints and features ; or, 
will it be objected, that nature has not been rightly followed, or that the pictures 
are not like? An impartial judge Avill determine that both are good and natnral, 
and that each mastei* has duly mixed art with nature. 

I have discovered a great oversight in some artists, which is, that when the face 
was finished they had no further regard to tlie life, but chose a posture, at pleasure, 
out of drawings or prints, without considering whether it suited the person, and 
whether the dress was proper to the condition and countenance of the sitter; nay, 
whether the head matched the body : certainly a great heedlessness! for if a botly 



Of Vorlrailiirr, 1 1 

must bo addod, what more proper llian llio life itself? and tliousli tlic layman be 
good and helpful, yet it is not equal to the life. Many disregard this, thinking 
they have done <'nonji>h in i-opyini:;- the fare ; hut all the while they are preposterously 
joining- an airy drapery to a sedate and grave head, and a grave and stirt' dress to a 
merry face, lint further, the hands are entirely neglected : if a pair of fine ones 
■can he got of some other master, these are made use of, williout regard to the lif<% 
•which may |)erhaps have short, thick, and coarse hands. i low can these things 
agree? Is it not almost the same as to dress Flora with the drapery of Vcsla, 
And Vesta with F/ora'^ ^ Artists say — we have the jirints of I'nn Dyh, Leiy, KmlUr, 
and others, for tine examples; and as Lcli/ has followed Fa« Dyk in gracefiri 
action and draperies, so we have a liberty to imitate him and others, to whicli I 
Avillingly agree; but then Ave ought to do it on the same footing as he flid; in his 
postures he has not meivly, and without alteration, followed Van l^yk, and still less 
Avithout judgment; as may be seen in his two celebrated pictures of Sell Guy hh, 
aad the D of P— : the one, a wanton and buxom lady, he has so repre- 
sented ; and the other, being a widow, and more sedate, apj)ears more modest. 

By this rule we nuist walk in the use of those great masters; but if things be 
done without making distinction of persons, and their conditions, the artist will 
work to his dishonour. He who steals thus, may indeed call the work his own, 
without ivproach ; none will object, as Mkhucl Augdo did once to a painter v\lnj 
practised it to excess : — What will become of ymtr inclines ui Doomsday, when tht 
jtarls shall return to their own whoks, seeing your works are made up of stolen 
pieces ? 

Moreover, in tliis theft, we ought well to obsei-ve, how masters host a]iplied 
every thing, with resj)ect to youth and age, as well in postures as draperies and b\- 
^rnaments ; what suits an alderman or hero a merchant or citizen nobleman or 
plebeian : hereby we shall discover the aims of the great masters in thus managing 
•these particulars, and learn to immitate their beauties in a sweet aud agreeiiLdc 
manner. 



CHAP. IV. 

OF THE CIIOICT, Or LIGHTS, DltAPERlKS, AXt) GROl'XDS IX A TOH- 
TKAIX; AND or THE I'OINT 01" SIGHT. 

An the preceding chapter we have laid down as a rule, that a front fight is the ]»est 
*o be chosen, and the most beautiful, especially in the fair sex; and I think it 
the more necessary w hen the face itself is aJso chosen in front ; because then the 

c 2 



13 Of Portraiture. 

greatest force will fall directly upon the most rising-, or relieved pavls : but! shall 
now tiubjuin, that since the life, however we dispose it, eitliev from or near the light, 
fronting or in prolile, yet supports itself, thongh the light be not advantageously 
chosen, which a portrait cannot do ; we therefore must needs, in order to make it 
appear as it ought to be, accommodate the light to the disposition of the face : for 
instance, when the face turns somewhat sideways, the light must be adapted to it; 
when it is quite in profde, a side-light will be best; because then a great mass of light 
remains together — to wit, in the forehead, nose, and cheeks, M'hich are not broken 
by any ground-shade, but united by the roundness ; which shews us how to repre- 
sent rising nature, and causes a becoming relief. 

We see that many, without difference, be the figure in full proportion, or in little, 
give the touches under the nose so black and dark, that it seems as if a black beetle 
were proceeding thence ; Avhereas it is certain, and nature teaches it, that when the 
light falls strong on the nose, the nostrils and their ground-shades can never appear 
8o black ; and yet some think they have done great feats in using force and strength, 
and will do it even in a fair and tender face, and no bigger than the palm of the 
hand, although the deepest black should not have force enough to shade the ob- 
jects of a darker colour, such as hair, a cloak, or other garment; by which sort of 
management the face seems to jump out of the frame, and to desert the wig, hair, 
aud garment. We must not so understand, when we teach that the face must have 
the main light; we mean only, that all ought to keep due order, that it may look 
natural. Each colour of the by-work ought, according to its lightness or darkness, 
to have its moderate share and dark touches, as the matter it consists of is cither 
solid or thin and transparent ; and, in ])roportion as the objects lessen, so must the 
forceof their colours diminish, as shall be further illustrated in the following chap- 
ter, to which for brevity we refer. We see an excellent example of this manage- 
ment in the famous Netscher's artful portraits, wherein he has judiciously handled 
the darkest given shades, and main-light-touches, according to the natural forceof 
the colour. 

For the better understanding of further observables, I have found it proper to 
mention some other particulars concerning the disposition of lights, according to 
occasion, consisting in light against dark, and the contrary ; and though every thing 
thereby becomes relieved, and is set off, yet that is not sufficient; for the placing of 
colours against each other on suitable grounds, and a contrast in the objects, whe- 
ther moveable or immoveable, is of great consequence and decorum : and although 
we have handled these things at large in the Book of Colouring, yet we find it ne- 
cessary to recapitulate them here, with respect to portraits, and the retiring grounds 
or vistos behind them. 



Of Vovtrmturc. 13 

Observe, then, Avlietlier a fair and Ijcautifiil lace will become a b;^ht prey, or 
lightish bbie ground ; and whether a wjirni complexfon and Htrong colouring, against 
a glowing or ycsllowisli gronnd, will jdeane the eye. I sjieak of the face, not the 
dnip<iiirH, (hough both togttther make a portrait. But let the fair an«l beautiful 
face of a woman be placed against a warm ground, and then the light parts will not 
only be thereby cast off, and look more agreeable, but the shades will also be sof- 
tened, and appear more tender; for it is unnatural to force a fair and tender virgin, 
who shews little or no motion, out of lu;r seeming apartment, as some by their glow- 
ing shades and reflections have endeavoured to do ; whereby their faces, on the 
shaded side, look as if a lighted candle stood behind them, which penetrated their 
skin : this is as tuinatural in the open air as w ithiu doors. 

This example of a woman is enough to prove the contrary conduct with respect 
to a man's face, according to the aforesaid rules concerning the disposition and 
placing of colours on suitable grounds; namely, that the strong ought to be painted 
against, the weak, and the weak against the glowing and strong ; in which is also 
Com))reli('nded light against dark, and dark against light. 

Whence it is evident, that back-grounds contrilnite very much to the pleasing 
effect of objects ; nay, I dare say, that the decorum mostly depends thereon : and 
though many imagine, that a dark or black ground always becomes a portrait, yet 
it is no rule, since, as before has been said, each individual colour of the objects 
requires a particular back-ground : besides, if such things were to be taken for 
rules, the art would look too nuich like an handicraft ; for a dark colour against a 
dark ground can have no good effect, and that of a white or pale against it will be 
too hard ; therefore a medium must be judiciously observed in both, that one 
colour may suit with the other. \\\ the draperies the conduct is the same; one 
person best becomes light, and another dark clothes ; blue suits one, and red, yel- 
low, or green, &c. another: the artist must then take care not to force nature, but 
help her as much as possible, and represent her always most beautiful. 

If any one would know many reason for thinking that my errors arise in this part of 
the art, it is, that the colours of the naked receive more or less, or too much force 
by the by-colours of grounds and back-ornaments. It fares with them as it is satd 
of the canielion, who changes his colour as often as he is placed by different colours; 
though (his is occasioned i)y his elegant and shining scales, when, contrarily, the 
human skin is dull, and not shining. However, we shall tind, that he who paints a 
portrait twice, and each time on a contrary ground, yet w ith the same temperament 
of colours, will perceive a very great, nay, incredible difference: as I have on seve- 
ral occasions experimented in the life ; to wit, that when some young ladies were in 
a room hung with yellow, they looked sickly and grey, notwithstanding their fresh 



14i Of Port raif lire. 

colour; but, contrarily, being in a room Imng ^villl violet, their colours shewed them- 
selves very beautiful ; Avhonce it appears, that tlie alterations are oftentimes occa- 
sioned by the adjacent olijicts. Let him who doubts this make trial of it in por- 
trait, by laying a gromid with water-colours on paper; and, after the face is cut out, 
placing it against the ])icture instead of a back-ground. But I think there is a 
convenient way of preventing the aforesaid alteration ; namely, by tixing against the 
wall, behind tiie sitter, a garment, cloth, or something else of the same colour, or 
near it, which we chu*e for our back-ground; thus we may be sure of obtaining the 
right colour, and make the painting look agreeable. 

Jn order to represent an extensive back-ground, and chiefly in a small picture, be 
it an apartment or landscajie, sonu; shadiuess should be contrived betw eeu the figure 
and the distance, as a column, curtain, body of a tree, vase, &c. These objects 
being in shade, or of a dark colour, the lights falling on the oft-works will not pre- 
judice either the face or drapery, though both be light; but, on the contrary, the 
figure,- as receiving the foremost and greatest light, will thereby be relieved, and look 
better. 

As for the draperies, since they consist of diflerent and various colours, each 
of a particular nature, and little agreeing with the colour of the face, they also 
require each a particular ground, best suiting and uniting with it; to the end that, 
though ditiering among themselves, they may have a perfect harmony with each 
other, so that the eye be not taken alone Avith the face, or the draperies, ornaments, 
or by-works; but, by this sweet conjunction, insensibly conducted all over the 
picture. 

It will not be improper to treat also about easiness and sedateness in posture, 
opposed to stir and bustle, and the contrary : namely, that the picture of a geu- 
llewoman of repute, who, in a grave and sedate manner turns towards that of her 
husband hanging near it, gets a great decorum by moving and stirring back-ground 
objects, whether by means of weaving trees or crossing architecture of stone, or 
wood, or any thing else that the master thinks will best contrast, or oppose the 
sedate posture of his principal figure. And because these are things of conse- 
quence, and may not he plainly understood by every one, I shall exjilain myself by 
examples in Plate LVII. concerning the elegance and harmony of back-grounds 
with the figures. 

In iS'o. 1. I represent a bea\i(iful face against the light of the ground; and the 
drapery, which is white, oj- of light colouring, against the dark of it ; these oppo- 
sitions thus meeting, produce a sweet mixture above, and below an agreeable relief 
or rising of the under part of the body ; w hereas, were it otherw ise, the face, as 
but a small part of the body, would look too sharp and disagreeable, and tJie under 
part of the body would jiave no force. 



Of Voj-f rail lire. 15 

In No. 2. being the portrait of a man of a moro uarui niirl swartliy romplixion, 
we see the reverse of the former, because his colour, and tliat of his dresw, are 
of a diflerent nature ; yet the impound is very onianiental, and each sets off thr 
other. 

No. 3.. shews a man with a drunken fare of red, purple, and violet, and Konie- 
Avhat brown and darkish ; wliieli is sft off by, a white niarldo or light stone i^round, 
and gives it a hne air. 

In No. 4. is an example of the contrast in distant ol)j(cts with the drapery 
of the Hgure ; shewing the oj)position of moveable objects witii fixed ones; for 
herein are seen rounding and crossing folds against straight and parallel off-works. 
And, 

In No. 5. appears the reverse ; Avhere the folds hang straight and mostly dowri- 
wards, and tlie off-works cross them. 

No. 6. gives us an example of the opposing action and posture of bodies in two 
fellow-portraits; for the man, being on the woman's right side, turns his face side- 
ways towards her: his body i.s fronting, receiving the light from the light side. 

In No. 7. we see the contrary in the Momans posture; her face is fore-righti 
and her body sways sideways towards the man ; she also is lighted from the right 
side. 

The figures numbered 8 and f) represent also, yet in a different manner, the con- 
trast in the motion; for the woman, standing on the right side of the man, has it 
sedate motion, and set and hanging shoulders: but the man, contrarily, is in. active 
motion. And, 

No. 10. shews a proper method to exhibit a great extent, or seemingly such, in a 
small piece; for the figure stands in a strong light; the by-ornaments, viz. curtain, 
vase, pillar, and walling, are in shade; and the distance or back-ground is light 
again, but somewhat broke by reason of its remoteness. 

To conclude tliis chapter I shall say something of the placing of portraits, and of 
their point of sight. 

As to the former, it is certain, that when we see anj' painted figure, or object, in a 
place where the life can be expected, as standing on tlie ground, leaning over a 
balcony or ballustrade, or out at window, &c. it deceives the eye, and by being seen 
unawares, causes sometimes a pleasing mistake; as it frightens and surprises others, 
when they meet with it unexpectedly at such places as aforesaid, and where there is 
a likelihood for it. If we are thus misled by a representation of nature, how great 
must the master be Avho did it! The knowing esteem him, ignorants cry him up: if 
this be the case, we ought to endeavour to follow nature and likelihood, and prin- 
cipally to observe the rules of perspective 5 lor who cau doubt, that a standing. 



16 Of Portraiture. 

sittius:, or moving figuro, artfully painted, ami placed as aforesaid, will not have tlio 
same efi'ect as the lite itself? 

Hence it follows, that low horizons, or poiut.^ of sights, are the best and most 
natural in a portrait, and will most deceive the senses, if the light and distance, 
with respect to the place where the picture is to be set, be well observed ; otherwse 
the eflect will be contrary to what we expect. 

This conduct is chiefly necessary in portraits hanging high ; for being so much 
above the eye they must needs have a low horizon. But as portraits are move- 
able, how natural and like soever they be, and Mell managed, if they hang not in 
premier places they will not have a good effect ; hence the mischief attending them 
is, that by continually changing their places, they cannot always be painted 
to a certain height and distance, and consequently bafHe our rule — a difficulty 
which the greatest masters must struggle with, and this branch of the art is 
liable to. 

Having now shewn that a low horizon and point of sight are best and most natural, 
as supplying, in some measure, this inconvenience : how much raiist they mistake 
who always choose a high horizon? They are on a level with the sitter, and yet 
place the horizon many feet higher ; nay, they think those who do otherwise act 
against nature and art. Some will have two points of sight in one piece; one for 
the figure, another for the ornaments : one level with the eye, and the other for the 
distance; one hand higher or lower at pleasure, or about three or four fingers 
breadth above the middle. Although these are inexcusable errors, yet I think it 
vain to attempt their redress ; but hope the judicious artist will weigh what I have 
said, and endeavour to avoid them. 



CHAP. V. 

or PORTRAITS IN SMALL. 

J. HERE are many things, as I have formerly shewed, which if we will have them 
transport the senses by their natural representation, we must always exhibit in their 
natiu-al proportion and force of colouring : but in a portrait it is otherwise ; for this 
may as well be done in little as in full proportion, provided the diminution be well 
observed ; and besides, it has some relation to historical management. We could 
say the same of a little flower compared with a great one ; for if it were coloured in 
proportion to its distance and diminution, it would be in the same case with a por- 
trait iu little. But it is nevertheless certain, that in festoons, garlands, flower-pots 



Of Torirailure. 



17 



in niches, groups of flowors, &c. serving for ornainont of chambprs, little flowers are 
of small account ; nay, never seen wove or embroidered in any stuff": wherKic some 
may be induced to think, lliat a portrait in little, as big as the palm of the hand, 
has as little property in a square a;L!;ainst the wall, especially when it rfceives its 
light from without the frame, and is painted with as much force as the life itself; 
which, with respect to force, I allow ; nevertheless, a small portrait may, in ord' r 
to make it look more natural, be more easily helped, than small flowers place«I 
against a door, window, or other flat; which, in my opinion, can in lutwrn-hc 
made good ; but a small portrait may, as I shall prove in what follows : in order Ut 
which the artist must previously consider. 

First, How much the life in proportion diminishes ; and, consequently, liow faint 
it must be. 

Secondly, Tliat the picture cannot receive its light from without the frame, as 
being too far from it. 

Here, perhaps, it may be asked. Whether a portrait of a lady or gentleman lean- 
ing out at window, in the manner of old Micris, Metzu, Voiulcr, Ncer, and othrrs, 
would not be good and natural ? I say. Yes. But then the witidow must also go 
back ; for as it would be difficult to represent its going back from the frame, since 
no object, whether ceiling or floor, &c. is between them, in order to create distance, 
and make the picture fall back ; something may be introduced in full proportion, 
to shew the depth and distance, according to the difference to be seen in the follow- 
ing instances in Plate LVHI. 

In No. 1. we see a common fault in the figure leaning on a frame; in this there 
is no other way to make the figure go back, than by taking away the frame. And, 
although, 

^o. 2. shews itself within the frame, yet it would be to no purpose did we not 
assign a sufficient large breadth or thickness to the frame ; for in such case we must 
not regard a hand's breadth of cloth, whereon to represent something in full pro- 
portion, as an orange, flute, book, &c. Yet, 

No. 3. shews a good method, and in my judgment the best and most natural. 

I remember, amongst the paintings of a certain amateur, to have seen one of a 
doctor with an urinal in his hand, thrusting his arm out at window, so that the shade 
of it, and the glitter of the water plainly appeared on the sill of the window. 

Next the windoAV a maid-servant was seen standing at the door, speaking to a 
woman in the street with a child in her arras : some other figures appeared in the 
front of the picture, seen to the shoulders only, as if standing in the street. On the 
sill of the window were lying a bottom of blue worsted stuck with needles, also a 
.pair of scissors, a piece of dark blue cloth, and a thimble, all in full proportion: to 

VOL. II. © 



18 Of Portraiture. 

be short, this picture was by an artist, with tlie o%vuer's leave, sentenced to be 
docked ; in order to which, he drew a stjuare chalk-line round the window, which 
contained the doctor, and cut away all the rest round about it, hitting here a head, 
there an arm, w ithout sparing any body but the doctor, who was instantly pnt into a 
smaller frame: thus the piece was half cutaway, and for no other reason, as the 
artist pretended, than that the doctor alone was suftjcient to satisfy the eye, the rest 
being superfluous. A wretched fate for so good a picture ! But some painters wiH 
keep the old road, because it is difficult to correct a rooted evil : they do as the old 
woman did, who being exhorted in her last sickness to embrace the true faith, 
answered, " Slie would follow the steps of her forefathers, were they all gone to 
the devil." 

So it is with a portrait in little, which has nothing of nature but the features, and 
looks like a puppet; whereas there are well-known methods to make it appear as 
big as the life ; nay, to move and speak, as I may say : but. being slighted, the figure 
seems immoveable, dumb, and little, and therefore unnatural. 

On this footing I mean to shew, that all things may be naturally represented in 
little, except a moon-light, which baftles all our skill. 

Now, if it be asked. Whether too nice an expression of parts in a small portrait 
would not be superfluous and unnatural, with respect to distance, and whether less 
finishing would not be better? I say, No ; provided it be not so strong and warm 
as the life ; for the figure not being exhibited in open field, it cannot have so much 
mistiness and vapour about it ; and therefore the neat penciling cannot be obstructive, 
especially if managed with skill, as the principal parts well touched, and the tender 
and melting smallness in the broad parts the same, so that at the proper distance the 
one is seen more, and the other less. 

Here may arise another cpiestion : Whether such pictures are not of the same 
nature with what is seen through a prospective-glass, since every thing appears so. 
plain, elaborate, and neat? But I answer, that they are not, nor can; because the 
glass exhibits the life w ithout the interposition of mistiness or vapours, and with 
strong and warm shades, which overcome its smallness. 

I have often wondered at such small paintings, because they seemed as if I was 
looking in a Nuremberg looking-glass, or through a prospective, since they appeared 
not like the life, but little moving puppets. 

Now, another difficulty is, that since such paintings cannot, according to our 
position, be made good without the addition of some by-ornaments, as imagery in 
whole or half-figures, vine-branches about the frame, or something lying on it, in 
order to throw them ofl', it would be hard for those who can only paint a whole or 
half length figure, and aim at nothing else than to become masters therein ; whereas,. 



OJ Portraiture. 19 

he who is better versed, may, by a due observance of what has been said, easily over- 
come the before-mentioned difliculties. 



CHAP. VI. 

OF TIIK APPLICATION OF KKQUISITES WITH KESPFfT TO TUT. 
DIFFF.ur.NT CONDITIONS OF PKUSONS. 

Jt will not be forcisu to our main «lusi;?n, to put the artist in iniud of the appli- 
cation and right use of such materials as may enrich a portrait, and make it look 
the more noble. This is so great a point in portraiture, that, when well known, we 
need never be at a stand through the mis-shape or defects we often meet with in 
the disposition of a portrait, and which sometimes must not be hid ; since we have 
often means enough for obviating them with seeming reason, and without forcing 
nature ; as a long and narrow face may be helped by a hood, or other head-dress ; 
a thick and too round a face by the contrary : a figure too lonesome may be em- 
bellished with a pillar, pedestal, flower-pot, table, and such things as are proper 
to it, which serve not only for ornament and grandeur, but also to express the 
sitter's lustre and virtue : but care must be taken that the figure of the sitter, as the 
principal object of the piece, fill up the major part of it, either by a spreading 
disposition of the posture, or by the addition of some proper by-work; by which 
means it will have a good effect. 

Since it is certain that the vices as well as virtues have two powerful qualities, 
and, though contrary to each other, yet both tend to good purpose ; nay, a wicked 
jpevson may, by a virtuous example, be rescued from evil; and a virtuous person, 
through bad example, led into error and ruin ; but virtue being joined to virtue, 
fears no evil ; on the contrary, the evil w ill make us avoid evil : so pictures 
should create an ardour for virtue, and especially those of religious and good per- 
sons ; since this, as we have said in Chap. I. gave the first rise to their repre- 
sentations, in order to perpetuate their memories, as well as their virtues and glori- 
ous actions. 

To come then the better to this excellent point, let us by noble accompaniments 
make known their virtues, natures, manners, and particular inclinations, and ex- 
hibit them with their persons in a conspicuous manner. Wherefore I shall lay 
down some examples, though drawn from heathen story. 

Among the heathens, some were most virtuously endowed, Lucretia and Pene- 
lope in chastity ; Cato in steadiness and courage ; and many others whom we shall 

D 2 



20 Of Port rail tor. 

for brevity omit, to pass to the sketching some representations (or materials for sach) 
of the circumstances of a court, chamber, or other apartment ; and an example of 
a chaste virgin shall be that of Lucretia. It is said, to her honour, that she was 
descended of a noble family, and so virtuously educated, that she delighted only 
in that. Now, whether we represent her living or dead in that character, we may 
adorn her apartment with fine tapestries, statues, and pictures, the history of Pene- 
lope at work ; the fable of Coronis and Neptune ; some modest emblems of gods,. 
&c. all relating to chastity and honour. If statues, or household gods be neces- 
sary, let them be Pallas, Diana, Hymen, and especially Vcsla : her bed may be 
ornamented with Chastity and JStedfastness ; and on her conch may be seen some 
Cupids lighting each other's torches, or playing with pahn-branches and olive-Ieaves: 
the apartment may be here and there furnished with gold and silver vases, cups 
and other house-plate, wrought with virtuous significations; but herein care must 
be taken not to introduce any thing foreign to the matter, or against history, which 
ought to be consulted. 

The management this example may sufficiently usher in the method of treating 
others, such as of Julms Ccesar, Augustus, Marcus, Aurelius, C'rce.\tis, Solon, Se- 
neca, &c. and contrarily, the stories of Sardanupahis, Semiramis, Faustina, Pha- 
laris, &c. 

As for a cruel prince, or tyrant, either in his court, apartment, or other place, 
even in his revels, &c. each requires its proper embellishment : the apartment may 
be adorned with paintings of all sorts of punishments and cruelties, draw n from the 
blackest parts of history, together with those who cause them to be inflicted : if it 
be Nero, let all or some of the cruelties of his bloody reign be painted, and his 
qualities, with emblems in marble bass-rehef ; his statues are deities or household, 
gods, as Mars and Megcera; he himself may be represented on a pedestal, with 
thunder in his hand, the world under his feet, and the Roman senators bowing and 
kneeling before him, fettered like slaves : his drhiking equipage may be ornamented 
with noxious animals, as serpents, adders, and the like; his chair or seat, with ti- 
gers, lions, and dragons, wrought in silver, gold, and ivory ; his throne may be 
supported by Jupiter, Juno, Neptune, and Pluto ; the floor curiously and richly 
inlaid with a celestial sphere of lapis lazuli; and the meteors and constellations 
wrought in bright gold ; the censors may smoke in all corners of the apartment, but 
chiefly about his statue. If the scene lie in his dining room, the household gods 
may be seen thrown down in all corners, especially the simulacrum of Roma, with 
its head broken off, and lying near it, Jupiter, Apollo, and Vesta are principals in 
this company. In fine, every thing that can denote a wicked man, or monster, art 
must exhibit. The same character should also appear in the actions, looks, and 
dresses of his retinue or guards ; for we usually say, " Like master, like man.'* 



Of Portraiture. 21 

But not to dwell too long with princes, we shall also speak of other character?, 
and shew what suits (hem. 

"With a burf^oniaster suits the statue of justice ; and in paintinf^s, or l)an}^in;^s, some 
emblems of it, representing the rewards of the good, and punishment of the bad ; 
the fasces (or rods and axe) are the (rue token of a consul, or burgomaster. 

With a senator agree tiie statue of policy, or government; and in paintings or 
hangings, some representations of the laws; besides prudence and care for the state. 

Witii a secretary the statue of Ilarpocralcs ; and in tapestry, or bass-relief, the 
story of Alexander shutting Hephestums mouth with a sea-ring; also the emblem of 
Fidelity, or a goose with a stone in its bill. 

With a director (governor) of the East-India Company; the figure or statue of it ; to 
•wit, a heroine with a scollop of mother-of-pearl on her head, in the nature of a hel- 
met, and thereon a coral branch ; a breast ornament of scales, pearls, and corals 
about her neck ; buskins on her legs, with two dolphins conjoined head to head, 
adorned with sea shells ; two large shells on her shoulders; a trident in her hand, 
and her clothing a long mantle; a landscape behind her of an Indian prospect, with 
palm and cocoa-trees, some figures of blacks, and elephant's teeth. 

This hgure also suits an admiral, or commander at sea, when a sea-fight is intro- 
duced instead of a landscape. 

With a divine agrees the statue of Truth, represented in a Christian-like manner, 
or else this same emblem in one of his hands, and his other on his breast ; be.«idts 
tapestries, bass-reliefs, or paintings, and some Christian emblems of the true faith, 
and a representation of the Old antl New Testament ; and in the otT-scape a temple. 

With a philosopher a celestial globe, the statue of Nature, and a representation 
of the four elements, &c. 

A general should have a white staff in his hand, and the figure oi Mars in a niche; 
if a landscape be seen, a trophy may be reared with Victory sitting on it: lie may 
have Hercules for a statue. 

With a sea-insurer suits Arion on a dolphin ; and, in a picture, a sea-ha\ien with a 
ship under sail making towards it ; on the shore the figure of Fortune, and over the 
cargo, Castor and Pollux. 

With a steersman suits the figure of Precaution ; besides a compass : and, in a 
picture, the four cardinal points. 

With an engineer, the figure of Industry; besides a map of military architecture. 

With an orator, or speaker, the figure of Eloquence, or Mercury, without his 
purse, and beside him a roll of papers ; in the off-scape, a person mounted on a stone, 
and surrounded with an attentive audience. 

With a virtuous young man the figure of Virtue ; aad on a w all Horaces emblem 



22 Of Portraiture. 

,of the young man in the stadium or course ; or else the young Hercules standing be- 
tween Virtue and Vice. 

Some things are also proper to women, to betoken their virtues a,nd qualities; as 
by an eminent woman for reputation the statue of Honour, and by it some emblems 
of Fidelity, especially economy, or family government, and seme medals relating 
thereto. 

With a widow agrees well the figure of Humility, or emblems tending tovvards it, 
as also Perseverance. 

With a young and sober virgin suits the figure of Neatness ; an embroidering frame 
anil its furniture ; besides emblems relating to it ; among which, that of Business, 
.shunning Idleness, Pride, and Gluttony, have a principal place. 



CHAP. VII. 

OP THE SUITING OF COLOUKS IN DRAPERIES. 

J- HE suiting of colours in portraits comes now before us — a matter of as great con- 
sequence as the former, and deserves no less attention. 

Many think, though without ground, that deep red best becomes a red-faced 
person ; deep yellow a sallow one ; and all pale colours a pale one; and, what is 
strange, black and dark colours, a swarthy person: but this must be ridiculous, 
and without reason, if we consider what a strange composition these people would 
make. Truly, if the art were so, there would be no difficulty in finding agree- 
ableness, and every one would be able to dispose it as it ought to be ; and if this 
were a becomingness, variety would be no art : nay, the fashion itself, which alters 
four times a year with respect to colour, would not be allowed every body to wear; 
as in spring, green; in summer, yellow; in autumn, red; and in winter, lillemot. 
Yellow or sallow-faced persons durst not wear red ; or red-faced ones, green : but 
enough of this. Let us now return to what sober art dictates. 

Beginning with the head and its hair, 1 say, that deep or strong colours, such 
as deep red, deep yellow, deep blue, &c. best fit for a person who has brown hair. 

Those who have fair hair best become half or weak colours ; such as purple, 
light blue, violet, green, and rose-colour. 

" A yellow-haired person best becomes violet, blue, and whitish yellow, as masti- 
cot, and such like; these are the chief colours which I know. But here we must 
observe, that the lighter the hair, the more w eak the drapery ; and the darker the 
hair, the stronger the dre.s.s. 



0/ Pvrtrailiuf. 2.T 

He is a prudent master who well knows how to express hi his pictures tlic dil- 
ferent natures and coniplexions of jjeople, and to disting:uish persons full of spirit 
and fire from the mti-k and dead-hearted ; the siekly and w<-ak from the healtliy 
and strong;; as to whom wo inay use draperies of the foliowini^ colours : wilh the 
red or fiery suit best draperies of half or broken colours, with little red in them ; 
the pale suits no yellow, or other pale colour; the sallow the same; but white is 
very agreeable : brown complexions become not dark or stronj^, but white, an*! all 
light colours. '^Ilie blacks love white above any other colour, and think no dress 
becomes them better than a light-coloured one — and not without reason ; for, woubl 
not a black man with black or dark clothes be frightful to look at? And how ri- 
diculous is it for a pale virgin to dress in all sorts of light and pale colours, in order 
to look less pale; and that one who is red, wear nothing but red for the same rea- 
son. Hei-eby, instead of hiding a small fault, the master would commit a greater; 
and yet t!)>sis the common notion. But, if 1 may give my opinion, a red and fiery- 
faced person, dressed in red, seems to me like a red painted statue; and a pale- 
looking person in a light or yellow tiress, as sick or dead. Wherefore, if w« 
would be artfxd, we must manage otherwise ; to wit, that those whom we 
woid.l represent healthy or sickly, ought to appear such by contrary colours; as 
lively colours for a sick or unhealthy person ; and weak and faint ones for a healthy 
person: yet let me not be here misunderstood: 1 say not this as a positive law, 
without exception, but as a hint to Tyros. The more experienced know what the 
arttt;iches; for she is not deficient: but as the drapery sometimes over-rules, so we 
can manage the naked accordingly; for instance, red drapery requires a middling 
carnation, between pale and red ; so also it ought to be with a pale colour. When 
I say the decorum consists in an opposition, it must be understood, that opposition 
has its degrees, which we ought to know and use according to the different occasion, 
and the grounds against which they happen to come : but, in general terms, the 
naked must always seem to be of a distinct nature from the draperies. 



CHAP. VIII. 

OF THE IMITATION OF GREAT MASTERS IN PAINTING PORTRAITS; 
AND OF COPYING THEIR PICTURES IN GENERAL. 

XiRE we leave the subject of portraiture, I think this head necessary to be treated 
of, and therefore shall shew. how far and in what manner we may engage in it; and 
subjoin somewhat of copying pictures in the same bigness, as well as in different sizes. 



24 Of Tortraiiiire. 

I find that tliis imitation of masters is less observed in (heir design and arrangements 
than in the colouring, lights, and shades: this is certainly a principal point in a 
picture, because, there can be no decorum without it; nay \>e find some works of 
small masters in this particular tolerably successful ; though they know not how 
they got the knowledge, it happening mostly by chance: they are charmed with 
some fine and taking colours in this or that great master; these they use at random 
in their own productions, either forwards or in the depth, middle or sides ; and if 
they happen to be placed against a proper ground, or are set off by any aiding by- 
colour, tlie work hits right, in satisfying both the eye, and rules of art; but if 
these fine colours happen to suit the grounds, then all is wrong, and the artist at a 
stand. 

To explain this point, wc shall be tnore particular, and clear it by examples; 
though I think 1 have already in tliis book spoken largely enough of it, in treating of 
back-grounds and the harmony of colours in a portrait. A certain artist having seen 
a very beautiful white and green lace on a young lady's gown, painted by a great 
master, he must by all means imitate it ; but being asked, whether he had taken due 
notice of the ground-colour of the gown ? he answered, No. How then can this fine 
and becoming lace have a good cft'ect in his works unless by chance ? 'I'he reason of 
which is, I think, that either through shame or pride, or both, the artist takes some- 
thing from a great master; for instance, what he used in the lointain, the other, that 
it may not be known, brings forward ; and what he has represented in the open air, 
the other contrives in a dark room. A poor method of concealment, since by a right 
application the theft would be lawful ! but it is such mens misfortune, to be, in this 
particular, most out of the way when they think they do best : for, wanting the great 
master's wit, judgment, and apprehension, they have no true notion of his conduct, 
and therefore are easily misled, like ^^opV raven, and exposed to censure. 

Since it is an undoubted truth, that we can perform nothing but what passes 
through thought, and of which, either by seeing or hearing, we get an idea — there- 
fore must the paintings, drawings, and fine prints of old masters give a handle to 
thoughts and practice ; for he who never saw a lion can never paint him well, uidess 
by the help of a draught, or model: as was the case of a certain Westphalian, who 
representing Daniel in the lion's den, and having never seen a lion, he painted hogs 
insteatl of lions, and wrote underneath. These should be lions. Be this a fable or 
truth, it however teaclies us, that wc cannot represent any thing, whereof we have 
no idea; nay, if we have seen the objects, and made no sketches or models of them, 
we shall never exhibit them natmally ; since memory is but the repository of know- 
ledge and thoughts, from which theydrawthe things which judgment esteems useful 
and serviceable. 



C)f Pari rait me. 2.> 

I am of opinion, that two portal advantajjps arise from ropying grral mnstf-rs 
vorks: the one is, that tliereiii we see many defectB of simple nature rorrcctetl by 
their skill and judgment ; and the otlirr, that hy this means we accnslom onrKcUes 
to rectify tiiose defects, when we have nature before us: truly two j>oinf8 of prral 
importance,. 

But, alas! is an artist, considered in his natural inclination, olher\\i-<- inan •. 
child which, advancing in age, follows its impulse? If he perforin one |)raiseworthy 
act, how many errors will he contrarily commit? hut when this lient is conducted by 
reason and art, the perceptions of the mind will then, as through a clear channel, 
flow pure and undefiled : which leads me in some measure toconf«Rs, that art and 
practice have great advantages, and are more to he. set by, than all we nceive from 
Nature, which is often defective in desirc^d perfection, in a single object : but she i^ 
perfect in her performances and objects in general ; and, in that sense, art is obliged 
to follow her; wherefore, with the philosopher, I must say of artists. 

Nulura incij)it, ars diris^il, experientia docet. 

That is, 

Nulin'C points onl the ii'oi/, iihlch arts improve, 
And seltled practice makes ajnclure move. 

Hence we may easily perceive what we should do to cm-e this great defect of 
ihe mis-use of other nieiTs works ; but, that I may be the better understood, I shall 
insist on further means for doing it : if then it happen, that the artist meet with 
any thing which is very taking, and he be desirous to make it his own, -whether 
fine colours, drapery, stone, &c. Let him take notes, in his pocket-book, of the 
ground, by-colours and other incidents, as what there is about such or such colour 
und against what ground, and whether it be strong or weak ; and of what colour 
the objects be, and whether the warm or weak colour be in the distance or forwards, 
disagreeing or not ; as in the chapter of the harmony of colours is shewed. We 
must also consider, whether the light come from open air, or tall into a room through 
glass windows ; as is more largely taught in the book of lights and shades, and 
which 1 repeat here, because I think face-painters frecjuently act contrarily, in see- 
ing a faint yet fine drapery represented without-doors, which with the same tint they 
<?xliibit in an open air. 

The like heedless mistake we see in the copies of many disdples and young mas- 
ters after old or modern paintings ; for, not observing w hether in lessening their 

VOL. II. E 



26 Of Vovtraiturc. 

copies (which they getierally do) they should not also abate the strength of colour 
and tints, their colouring, as well in light as shade is as strong as the original. The 
same error they commit in painting a great copy after a small original. But this ill 
conduct is owing chiefly to masters when they set their pupils to copy in a diflerent 
size, in not admonishing them of it ; but rather desiring that they shall imitate every 
thing as exactly as possible; though in fact it be against the rule of art. It is 
therefore certain, that a picture with figures, of a landscape, suppose it as big as the 
life, to be copied a third less in size tints in the copy must needs be a third fainter 
than the original ; and the more it lessens in size, the fainter the tints, or else it can-r 
not be good. If this conduct be of such moment in copying pictures, of how much 
greater consequence must it be, when a portrait-painter diminishes the life, or paints 
a portrait in full proportion from a small one, with respect to the weakening or 
strengthening of colours. 

Although it is commendable to follow great masters in general, yet it is a fault to 
dwell upon some of their particulars, as an ornament, urn, vase, term, &c. without 
striving at something new. We think, that what they have done is enough for our 
practice ; but this is w eakness ; since art and nature have such a fund of objects, and 
our time for learning and living is long enough, and by consulting within ourselves 
we may spur our genius. 

l>thers connnit the same fault by a contrary impulse ; for so violent is their incli- 
nation to some particular great master in his objects, colouring, &c. that they think 
it lost time to enij)loy tlieir thoughts on the works of any other good artist, and being 
thus wedded to him, they wish, drudge and plod to be like him as well in errors as 
junfections ; by this means, and by a punctual imitation of blunders and mistakes, 
il sometimcis happens, that the copy and the original are not to be distinguished, 
both being so wonderfully like each other ; nay, their own productions are taken for 
copies. For, a tyro of good ability may at first use himself to a good manner of 
designing, which he ought to be master of, before he takes to painting, and to under- 
stand this well before he proceeds to ordonnances ; and then, if he have a thorough 
knowledge of the latter, he will paint a good picture. Yet it is often seen, that his 
w ork is but taken for that of a pupil, nay, worse than a copy ; and what, is still less, 
it is not like his own manner or handling: and why ? such artists, being advanced 
thus far, endeavouring to produce their own inventions, no longer minding grounds 
and rules, but striving only at novelties, care little for painting or designing well ; 
whence their works are oftentimes indifferently designed, poorly handlcil and 
foloured, but well ordered ; arising only from a neglect of their master's instructions, 
and what they know and an itch for what they still want to know; where>(y they 
are often shipwrecked between both : pernicious effect of the bent of our youth ! 



Of Portraiture. 27 

which cannot he remedied otherwise than by returning to ori(i;inal principles anfl 
their putting in use : for as by an excess in loading weight upon weight on a weak 
and unsettled, though well-laid foundation the whole building may tumlile, even tiie 
foundation may dance ; so must our practice always have an eye to theory, that thf 
custom (which, as we say, is a second nature in goodness as well as badnesb) may 
gain firm footing on us, and be our srirest guide. 



THE END OF BOOK VII. 



K 2 



THE 

ART OF FAINTIRG. 

BOOK VIII. 
OF ARCHITECTURE. 

CHAP. I. 

OF AKCIIITECTURE IN GENERAL. 

After having treated of so many diflorent parts of the art, we meet also withar- 
chiteclure: an art full of noble performances and line uses. But our purpose is 
not to insist on all its advantages, or give a system of it ; since such a work would 
Le too tedious, and calls for Homer or YirgiVs eloquence : and having been co- 
piously written uj)on by several learned pens, we shall treat no farther of it than 
what concerns a painter, leaving the rest to architects. 

An ingenious history painter, if he would be universal, must needs understand 
architecture and statuary; because he will otherwise be at a nonplus in some 
things ; he ought even to be as knowing as an architect, and how to order a good, 
building, though it is an architect's daily practice, and that but a part of the painter's. 
It is certain that the human body is, in its symmetry, proportion, majesty, and 
grace, the most perfect piece of work in the creation : architecture is no less perfect 
in its operations ; it has even produced the first wonder of the world, and thereby 
obtained the laurel and palm of fame. 

Writers say, X\\^t Babylonians were the first, and after them the jEgypliafis, Greeks, 
and Romans, who brought it to perfection ; until in the emperor Augustus's time, 
it arrived at its highest pitch; but sunk afterwards by the irruption and barbarity 
of the Goths, Yandals, Hurms, and Longobards, who burned and destroyed all 
before them. A true proof that nothing in the world is permanent and stable. 
But to come to our purpose, we must premise that the word architecture) simply 



Of Architecture. 29 

signifies drauslits or designs, niU'V wliicli, w iMiiUliiig is rarricd np und ronstriK ted ; 
and comprehends the live following ord<is : nanirly, the Titscmi, Doric, lonir, 
Roman, ixnA Corinthian; according to which, :dl iiuildings are regidattHJ, uhedicr 
l)alaces, temples, town houses, triumphal Jirfins, liai^iiios, thcatrcK, town-gatew, 
galleries, tond)s, and otlu'r magnificent i)uildiiigs, round r»r s<iii:in , or liolli : [ speak 
of tljeir outward constuction. 

The word ord(!r is of large ex<<Mit : hut in architiclun- is, as Yitnniiis d( flues 
it, a joining of ditrt'rcut proporlionato and synnnctric; parts, as pedestals, columns, 
and their ornunjents, in such nuunuT as to compose a pirf* ct or<k:r and l)o«ly. 

As for the entablatures over columns, to wit, architraves, friezes, and cornices 
(which for their richness, have got the name of ornaments) they may as little as the 
orders themselves, be either mixed among one another, or changed from one order 
to another. 

A careful painter will not only disliuguish one sort from anotiu-r, from cornice to 
base, but will also take care not to put an Io?iic moulding on a Doric j)edestal ; a 
CoriiUhiaii on a Tuscan: a lionuin cornice on an Ionic frieze, &c. 

Furtiicr, it is certain that the orders do not [)romiscuously suit all sorts of build- 
ings, but ought so to be applied (respecting their parts and ornaments, which also 
difler in general from each other) as to have an harmony and agreement with the 
>\'hole buildings, with respect to their situation and quality. 

These orders must be enriched in their several kinds, to shew a suitable decorum, 
especially the capitals, except the Tuscan, which is throughout plain and simple. 

The Doric order excels in its triglyphs and metopes. The Ionic, in its volutet, 
vwdillions, &c. The Homan, in the elegance of cornices, and Ijeanty of capitals with 
their volutes, and oak-leaves. And the Corinthian, hy its mouldings of victorious 
olive leaves, and its excellent and agreeable capitals. 

The metopes in the Doric frieze may be enriched according to the cjualities and 
uses of buildings, whether temples, town-houses, honourary archep, or courts for 
priests. 

In the first suit best carved challices, books, vases, mitres, &c. 

In the second, the coats of arms of the republic, or chief men in the government : 
also the rays and thunders of Jupiter tied together 5 or the Caduces (stafl^ of Mer- 
cury, twined with serpents, as denoting peace. 

In the third, various arms and trophies taken from the enemy ; or all sorts of mu- 
sical and w arlike instruments, as usual in triumphs and armies, crovrded together. 
And, 

In the last suit best carved ox-sculls, adorned with garlands, betokening sacrifice 
which the ancients made to their deities ; oftentimes the utensils of tho>e offerings 



^^ Of Architecture. 

,vero i,,.,o,l„cod, to «it. allar. vas«, three legged kettles, vinegar-cups, eensers can- 
(ilesticks. basons, dishes, liamrDcrs, axes, knives, &c. 

An,ong the works of the ancients we see in the fnezes of the Ionic, Roman and 
0.v«/.a« orders (especially in the two last) some foliage of oak leaves- .Wuch 
ha., a hne effect, when tw.nod with shrubs and vine branches, interspersed with roses 
and other flowers. Sometnnes are introduced vizards, with piayin^ children an^ 
nnunng animals : also festoons of fn.it, leaves, and various kinds of tie most beautf 
iul and agreeable flowers ; these tied together look nobly especiallv whl !. 
placed : but enough of this. He who would know mo;e so ^f fd^^ 1"'"""^'^ 
must consult the works* of th.. ancients, m which he ^^Zt^^X:!;:^ 
fore-mentioued are the principal, and most in nse. ^ 

Allhougli the ancient, teach, tliat the fronts rf building fwhich are the ■,,... . 
n, .,e») ought to be more adorned than the flanks and re^r^ vet ,ol T 
.ershave ,nis„„ders,ood this, and apprehended, a if , fe L ' arutre """T 
co„,d not be too, nan,. n„,, the, have crowded the ntoX TthrarZ:: ' 
fr,e.e, and corn.cc, and of ,i,e pedestals under cohunns, «ith s,Lll c^ZT,' 
a .nanner, that it rather causes confusion than orna.enl, as .^^ZtZX- 
b . when nsed ,„ n,oderat,on, and between the principal ontaments a pris lef; 
l)lain and blank, it causes grandeur and decorum. 

.Something is also to be ren.arked about pediments and fcev stones P.rf- , 
(or tops of fronts) Hke the forehead of a ,na„%hew .heprinch^l ateTtofti iT' 
cspecally when their spandrel.s (or faces) are agreeably enHcI,';™:"^ 
«.h instortes, sacrifices, arms, or the hke, in marble, according to .1, JIualitHnl 

Soraelitnes also are put over pediments, trophies, coal, of arms, or shields • which 

if well cut and placed, have a noble elTect. '■men, 

As lor keystones of arches over gates and niches, these may be enriched - 

„ the 7-,«™„ order, with wild beasts ; and between heads of cyelops, „; Hants. 

„ the Doncon\... wit lions heads, or //e,«fc with his lions skin ofe his hea^ 

.held aUiif " • """ '"'" '^^"^' " "^""^ "' "'■>"" -■ A"-°-. 'Vlth tet 

heJo'el'" 'IZC "'"■ ""' ''"'^ »f "-'---is, as Ro^.a,sJ.U,. C.sar. and such 

.iJdy'wro,!:;::'' "'."°"'^^' ''"■ "^-^^ °^ ^'■«- - »"- «»-<<'-- -« -y-rhs 

• There is a large collcclion „f ll.nn in Uwglr^; AncUnt Meiscnrj/. 



Of ArcfiKec/iirrr. St 

CUAV, ir. 

or Tnr, kisks of the oiinamknts, columns, ani> thi.ik 

PEDES'iALS. 

JtIavino spoken in the former chapter, of the deroration of the orders, we shall 
now, in a hrief manner, treat of the rises and divisions of the columns, with their 
ornaments and pedestals. 

The ornament (or entablature) of tlu^ Tuscan cohmm rises one module and seven- 
eight parts of a module (by module is meant, throughout the orders, the pillars dia- 
meter next above the base). The column, wi(h its base and capital rises seven mf> 
<lules and a liidf, and the pedestal one module seven eights: this being agreed, tlie 
entablature and pedestal arc each one fourth of the column's rise; the base under 
the colunin, and capital over it, are each iu rise half a module; the lessening (or di- 
uiinution) of the shaft of the column at the n(!ck, under the capital, is one fourth of 
a module, and it begins below at one fourth of the column's rise. 

The entablature of the Doric column rises two modules and one eight ; the column, 
with its base capital, is eight modules and a half, and the pedestal two modules and 
two fifteenths : this being fixed, the entablature is one fourth, and the pedestal three 
and three fourths of the column's rise. The base and capital are each, as in the 
Tuscan, half a module. The diminution at the neck of the shaft is one fifth of a 
module, and begins below at three parts one fourth of the column's rise, divided into 
twelve parts. 

The entablature of the Ionic column rises one module and three iburths ; the co-- 
Inmn, with its base and capital, is eight modules and three fourths, and the pedestal ' 
two modules and a half: this settled, the entablature is one fifth, and the pedestal 
three parts and a half of the column's rise. (But if the frieze be carved, the entabla- 
ture is four parts and a half of the column's rise, and in the following orders the 
same). The capital with its volutes, is little more than half a module, and the base 
is just half a module (and in the following orders the same). The diminution at neck 
is one sixth of a module, and begins below at three parts and a half of the column's 
rise, divided into twelve parts, as aforesaid. 

The entablature of the Roman.coXnmn rises one module and twelve twentieth parts 
of a module; the column, with its base and capital, is nine modules and three fourtlis; 
the pedestal rises three modules : which laid down, the entablature is one fifth, and 
the pedestal three parts and one fourth of the column's rise : the capital rises one nio- 
tlulc and one sixth — the base as before; the diminution at neck is one seventh of a 



32 Of Architecture. 

1110(1 iile, and ))ogins below at the rise of three parts and one fourth of tlie cohimn, 
divided as aforesaid. 

The entablature of the Corinthian column rises two modules ; the colunm, with its 
base and capital, is ten modules in rise; the pedestal three modules and one third: 
after whicli, tlie entablature is one fiflli, and the pedestal one third of tlie column's 
rise : the capital rises one module and one sixth^the base as before ; the diminution 
at neck is one eighth of a module, and begins below at one third of the cokunn's 
rise. 

The breadth of the Tuscan and Doric pedestals ought always to be equal with the 
plinths or ba.<>es of their columns ; and though the plinths in the three other orders 
project more at their bottoms, by reason of their sweeps, their pedestals must never- 
theless be alike perpendicular with the upper points of their plinths. 

Let me here lix the height of a statue on a pedestal placed next a column ; since 
many mistake in it. In right proportion it ought not to rise higher than two thirds 
of the column; but then the column should not be too high, or too low, but stand 
on a base only, which is frequently continued through the building. As for pedestals, 
they serve only to raise a column, and augment its ornament. We ought also, for 
elegance, to take care, that the tigurc and its pedestal be proportionate to each 
other ; because, if the latter be too great or too small, the figure Avould become too 
small, orinonstrous. 

In fine, as all the parts of a building ought to answer in a proportionate disposi- 
tion, so should the figures, whether carved or painted, be neither too big or little: 
wherefore they must be governed by the height of the place Avhere they are to stand. 



ciiAr. III. 

or THE PKOrLRTY or a building, and OBSERVATIO^'S TIIEREOIS-. 

I MUST believe, according to the evidence of writers, and the tradition of travellers, 
that the Italians have the best taste, as well for architecture as painting; and though 
it is certain, that Germany, France, Eni^land, Holland, and other countries, have 
produced fine architects, yet at this time they are not comparable to the Italians, 
whose jnanner, which is the antique, is now followed by the most polite nations. 
The old taste was known by the name of the Gothic, as a certain writer affirms, 
saying, " that the Gothic manner of building of the ancient Gerynans (which at that 
time gave law to all other nations,) is quite abolished by the Italians: nay, he cries 
out,— what magnificent and choice Avonders do we not sec in proud Italy, lofty 



r/a/^ Ll\ 




_/! i^imruAam y<-*^' 



Of Aichllcclurc. .33 

Rome e^H'c'\■J^\yy vvlicTO it scfins us if Nature iiiid Art liavc iimliiully iigrccd In 
establish their thrones, and exert their jjowers, in oi(h r to make this famous city (hi- 
mistress of the worhl, and the beauty of the; lUiivi-Tse ! St. Pelcr's church, the \alicuii, 
the Roltmdd, and many oilier structures (serxin;; tli'; whole world for examples, and 
without whi(;h architecture is but a confused nia.ss,) drawyearly thousands of jieoph- 
and young artists thither to improve theujuelves by them, for the service of their o\su 
countries; so that the finest and newest things which we see in those countries, 
lately built, and still going forward, are designed in the ItaUan taste." Wherefoie 
it is to tiiem that those fine piles, (he StatUhonse at Amslndam, the new Liitlicran 
church, and divers other strucfures, as well without as within the town, do owe their 
origin and beauty. 

We are then much ijidcbled to those great artists, Vitruvius, Setiio, Philiberl dc 
I'Ormc, Palladio, Caldueo, J^co Bujdisla Siintorilio, Vignola, Scauiozzi, and many 
others, who have enlightened the world with their works and writings. And I think 
that no one can lie a good architect who has not studied those authors. The French 
acknowledge, that their great improvements in this art are owing to the works and 
precepts of those excellent masters. 

We shall now speak of entire buildings so far as they serve for ornament in painting. 
The goodness of a building springs not merely from the aforesaid rises, breadths, or 
depths of the orders, but from an opposite conjunction (or bringing together,) of 
diflerent proportionate parts into an exquisite body, which, by reason of its excellent 
form, whether in height or breadth, appears to the judgment of the knowing both 
admirable and beautiful ; especially when fitly adapted to the quality of the owuer, 
and has general conveniency with respect to custom. 

In its particular parts a building requires, 1. A firm foundation. 2. A large and 
convenient stair-case. 3. A spacious entrance. 4. An elegant division of doors, 
windows, and other openings. 5. A handsome frontispiece, &c. These skilfully 
worked, and judiciously disposed, must needs produce a fine effect. 

Thus much for the outward face of a building. 

If any be inclined to object, that decorum consists more in inward contrivance, 
let me suppose a stranger to come into a town, and, passing through the streets, he 
were asked, what he thought of thebuildings? what answer would he make? would 

he not say they were either fine or mean? or would he say, 1 must first see the 

iusides, and whether the foundation be finn, the apartments well disposed and 

well lighted, and whether the under-ground oflices be good? This would be 

ridiculous : it is true a house must have these properties ; but it is idle to thhik, 
that therefore we cannot judge of the building by the outside only ; as if the pei-son 
who is able to give a design for a fabiic cannot also compart its inside. Lei it be 

VOL. II. F 



34 ()/■ ArihitectKic. 

asked then, wherein consists a good division within ; whether it is a seience which 
painters know not; whether there must be a fixed nnmber of lialls and apartments 
of a d» terminate form, length, rise, and breadth, and what tliose mnst be; whether 
there must be one, two, or more stacks of stairs ; whether each room nmst ha\eone 
chimney or two; and whether the floors must be wooden or stone; or wiictlier a 
palace is, for its largeness, more beautifnl than a common or citizen's house ? 

But, waving other mens opinions, we shall proceed in our purpose, so far as concerns 
a painter in these countries, and no further. Our judgment is, that the best propor 
tiou in a building is one third higher in rise than breadth, especially if it be covered 
in with a compass roof and its appurtenances; but if flat-roofed, a third wider than 
high, and to be commanded by a single order rising from bottom to top. It would 
be improper to adorn them with statues, bass-reliefs, festoons, &c. For such heavy 
and close structures, without weight, and moreover open on top, are proper for an 
amphitheatre, but not for a temple or palace ; I speak witii respect lo cuslora and 
decorum, which must always go together, since nothing is beautiful without its na- 
tural qualities. The case is as a woman in a man's habit, and the contrary ; or a 
water-vase adorned with an olive-branch and thunder; or an oil-vessel with tritons 
and dolphins. 

In painting a good building there must appear, besides the architecture, perspec- 
tive and colouring, an orderly disposition, producing elegance, otherwise it is of no 
worth. Orderly disposition consists in so joining the parts, that they mutually set 
off" each other in a pleasing variety, and thereby exhibit a fine piexe of work, and an 
agreeable figure: this variety springs from the inequality of openings, or windows, 
whether oblongs, squares, circles, or ovals; the dispositions of these openings, near 
and over each other, are founded on reason, as shall be explained by an example. 

We exhibit in Plate LIX. atemple topped with a cupola, or rather a house round- 
roofed. On each side of the door a flight of steps descend ballustraded ; underneath 
which is a vault; and over the entrance a balcony: now, beginning from below, 
we shall shew what figure each opening ought to have m an orderly disposition. 
The door under the steps is square, rising somewhat more than its diameter: that 
of the entrance is circular on top, and rises one third more than its diameter : that 
of the balcony also rises one third more than its breadth, but is square or flat on 
top ; and then we meet the roof rounding again. Now let us dispose it oliierwise, 
and make the door below circular, the next square, the next round, and no roof 
appearing. Thus much for doors ; for we find no other than round and square ones. 
The same method may be taken with windows ; when there are two ranges, one 
above the other, the undermost may be oblong, and the uppermost compass, but 
lower: if there be another range of windows above these, next the roof, they ought 



Of Archil vet inc. .'};5 

to ho perfect .sf|uaros. TIu'm rule wc liavc taken from tlic works of tlic ancienls, w lio 
always i;a\etlieir o|)(iiin.!^.s or wiiuIowK inore rise in the first story than the Hecond, 
■^\\\\ Irsseninf^in the third, yet all alike in diameter. Windows shonld never be lower 
than ahout three feet tVoni the floor within. If there he windrows in the basement- 
story (wherethe wallinj^ is thickest, and is nsnally finished with a /2M*<tc order,) tliey 
must be square, and al)0\e either selienie little roundinj^, or flat: and thus the one 
shew tiie otiier, with respeet to roundness and s(piareness. If now there were com- 
pass-windows in the basement and iip|)er stories, the uppermost should be circular, 
and the undermost oval, with tlu'-ir longest iliameter parallel with the level of the 
buildinji^, because, being pressed by the weight, their arch is dilated ; wliencontrarily 
the others do not bear any weight. But circular windows are grown out of use, a.s 
not admitting light so well as the square ones. 

If in the pier.s between windows there were the niches and figiires in them, and 
overhead room for a bass relief, then the table for it must be square, but circular, 
■where it is over a square window. 

As for doors over each other, I say, that if there were over the cornice a compass 
pediment, and on both sides a ballustrade with figures, then the balcony door ought 
not to be circular but square and ornamented with pilasters ; yet the door of the en- 
trance may be circular. We ought even not to set on the balcony a ballustrade with 
figures, but ornament it with balls or other low things. The one or other ballustrade 
must be also diversified ; for two parts alike in two such eminent places have an ill 
effect ; w herefore one of them should be close walled (parapet-ways) and the face of it 
may then be enriched with bass-reliefs of figures, festoons, &c. 

I think what I have said a sufBcieut guide for the other kinds of buildings ; for 
these observations are on all occasions unalterable to a painter, with respect to 
agreeable disposition. 

There is still somewhat behind, which, though contrary to the disposition afore- 
said, must be animadverted ; it is touching a flower garden, which, if fine, must 
needs be regular, as well with respect to its general form, as its particular division ; 
at least the two sides ought to be alike, whether .set off with pots, vases, statues, or 
other ornaments. We are taught, indeed, that uniformity is stiff, and not painter- 
like ; wherefore we should avoid it as much as possible: but weighing the precept 
maturely, we shall find the fault to lie in our misapprehension of it : qTiestionless 
things proceeding from rule and order must be regular, but that regularity may 
nevertheless be somewhat hidden on occasion ; wherefore, though a garden be uni- 
form on both sides, we are under no necessity of shewing all that uniformity : one 
side is sufficient, the rest may be handsomely hid, or broke with a tree, piece of stone- 
work, column, or a corner of the house. But let us not from hence absolutely con- 

F 2 



36 Of Architecture, 

elude regular objects to be unnecessary in an ordonnance ; for they sometimes fur- 
nish all the decorum of a picture ; yet if we see but a part of them, we may conceive 
the residue. 

More examples of breaking Uniformity may be these : when a figure stands on 
each side of a gate or alcove, a man may be placed or sit down before one of them 
in order to create inequality ; so also if by means of a curtain one of those figures 
be shaded. If a bass-relief be set on each side of the gate or alcove, one of them 
may partly be covered by the personages, to answer our purpose. If without doors, 
on both sides of an entrance, there be a carved lion or sphinx, we may break off one 
of their heads. Solomons throne was adorned with twelve golden lions : we need 
not see them all, the six on One side shew sufficiently, that there must be as many 
on the Other : two or three entire are enough, of the rest we may see only a part here 
and there. Thus Me must always manage in such cases. 



CHAP. IV. 

OF THE MATCHING OF THE VARIOUS COLOURED MARBLES, AS WELL 
WITHOUT AS WITHIN A BUILDING ; WITH THE MANAGEMENT OF 
TOMBS, VASA, AND BACCHANALIAN TERMS. 

Objects liave a fine efl^ect, when nature and art are joined together by a skilful 
hand ; and, though all eyes are not alike qualified to apprehend the reasons of it, yet 
they are, by a wonderful sagacity, sensible of it, confessing that it is beautiful, and 
so ought to be, though the one person, as I say, understand it, and the other do not: 
and for this reason ; art has such a power, that though Nature be beautiful in her 
productions, yet they would not perfectly please our eyes, without the help of art. 

Nature produces an infinity of fine stones of various colours and qualities ; but 
art alone judges of their fitness and orderly location as to rank and dignity, inso- 
much that, though ignorant in art, we can clearly apprehend that it ought to be so, 
and no otherwise. 

We know, that the white is soft and tender, and lovely to the eye ; the black con- 
Irarily is melancholy and disagreeable. We place then the black among the red, 
and upon the red, white. These three coloured stones are capitals, and cannot be 
otherwise disposed as to their natures and qualities, without forcing nature, and 
running counter to art. 

However, their rank and application in architectonic use may be these : 

In the Tuscan order, as undermost, black marble. 



1,\ 




^. Jf, £aire/ye in if. 



f. Air-nn^^-am J.///^. 



Of Afchitecline. 37 

ill the Done, f;reeii. 

Ill the Ionic, yellow. 

Ill the Roman, red. And, 

III the Coriutliiiin, white. 

If any ask wliy tlie red is not set before the yellow, since the red is in its nature 
darker than (he yellow? I answer, That it is because the red and green are opposers 
in strength ; contrarily, yellow is proper to green, since yellow and blue produce A 
green. 

If at any time we are obliged to place between two stones of one colour, a stone of 
another, the following mixtures are mostly in use. 

Between two black marbles suit best jasper, copper, or brass. 

Between two serpentine, or green marble stones, the same. 

Between two red stones, white. 

Between red, bhick, or serpentine stone, Pisan white-eyed marble. 

Between two grey slo'ies, free-stone, or yellowish while marble. 

Between two doited long veiny stones, one that is speckled ; and the contrary. 

Betwetn two jiispeis, yellow, or fleshy white marble. 

A marble-painter must oliserve the conveniency and place for marbling: if the 
place be large, or a hiill, then he may do it with force; but in a smaller compass 
he ought to itioi :» rate it, and keep it faint, that the place may not seem thereby les- 
sened, or the eye offended. If the room be hung wiih pictures, he should consult 
men of experience, especially the master who painted them, w hat colouring will fit 
best. 

About lii;lit pictures, dark marble is best, and about dark pictures, light marble, 
as Pisan, jasper, or any ttmling to a light yellow. But if it be a single colour, such 
as bass-reliefs, then free-stone suits best. 

In bringing many sorts of coloured marbles together, "we may, for instance, in a 
frontispiece, either single or double colonaded and pedestaled, very agreeably dis- 
pose them thus : vide Plate LX. The base and pedestal mouldings may be black, 
little eyed ; the l)lock or square of the pedestals, dark red, much dotted, les.< veined : 
the plinths of the columns and pilasters may be white, the columns, light red, or 
Pisan marble with large white-eyed veins on both sides the eying to be alike ; the 
pilasters also light red, moderately eyed, the capitals white, the architia\ e black, like 
the base and mouldings of the pedestals ; the frieze may be dark red, like the blocks 
or squares of the pedestals ; and the cornice black again like the architrave ; if the 
frieze have raised ornaments of foliage, children, triglyphs, ox-scuUs,.&,c. they ought 
to be white: if over the cornice be a parapet, il may be entirely of another colour, 
and the pedestals and the members of Pisan or other cross-veined marble, and the 



38 Of AnhHecturc. 

pannels or faces of grey marble, or white, if adorned with bass-reliefs ; the figures 
or vases on top also white. 

This distribution may be doubled, and varied on occasion : the friezes and columns 
may be white, tlie bases and capitals gold ; and so may also the ornaments be ; to 
wit, triglyphs, little blocks and foliage ; the rest may remain as before. 

In a hall of red or other marble (where the mouldings of the ornaments are dif- 
ferent, larger or smaller) we may make a door frontispiece, or alcove of white or 
other marlile; but if the members continue along the hall, the frontispiece or alcove 
ought to be of the same colour with the room. The room may be of one order, 
and the frontispiece, alcove, and chinuiey of another. Thus the room may be Ionic, 
and the rest Corinthian or Roman. The pavement of the floor must correspond 
with the building I mean, if the room have pilasters, the bands (or bordering 
marbles tying the pavement) must run up to them, whether the pilasters stand wide 
or close ; for they ought to be so laid, as to shew every where a regularity, whatever 
jets or breaks the door, frontispiece, alcove, &c. may occasion ; as a prudent gar- 
dener disposes his parterres, one round, another square, octangular, &c. always 
contriving such an tuiiformity as closes with the borders. In the middle of the hall 
may be introduced such figures or compartments, as best answer the general pur- 
pose, and they may be of what colour you please. 

In chambers or galleries, where the sides are unlike, we are obliged to part them 
by some figure coming between ; and yet the bands which bind the sides must come 
every where alike. If there be columns on both sides of the gallery, the bands 
must rim, crossing it, from one to the other. 

Proceed we now to party-coloured tombs, and other stones. On white sphinxes, 
lionesses, &c. suits well a tomb of serpentine or porphyry ; and on a black plinth, 
if no figures or other ornaments support it, porphyry also looks well. On brackets 
of copper or brass, the tomb may be of black marble. With grave-stones, or other 
bluish stone, agrees well violet-colour stone, or porphyry, copper or brass. Note 
here, that the black must always be undermost, especially when divers sorts of co- 
lours are placed in one another, as we have shewed in the orders. 

Great vases and urns are always of the same stone as their bases, as well in 
niches as on pedestals ; if on pedestals, the bases ought to project equal with the 
blocks precisely. 

The Priapus-terms anciently used in the Bacchanalia, were mostly of wood, not 
very large, and pointed underneath for conveniency of carriage from place to place, 
whither the gang of satyrs, fauni and bacchanals, determined to go. Having pitch- 
ed on a place for their stay, they fixed it in the ground, by means of the point afore- 



Of Arcfiileclure. 39 

said. Thejje tonus were sometimps painted of a brick colour, aometiincs also 
white ; about flic moiiUi and breast tlic^y were smeared with blue f^rapes. 

Tlio posts, or i^niides, called hnmcs, were hui^e and iinniov<ai>h-, aiul of white 
stone, set on rude heaps of stone, in order to be conspicuous to travellers at a di»j- 
tance; for which reason they were also sometimes placed on pedestals or blocks. 



CHAP. V. 

OF THK VEINS AND EYKS IN STONES USF.T) IN A K C II ITECTU R E, A.S 
WELL WITHOUT AS WITHIN; AND HOW TO DISI'OSE THEM. 

Xhe beauty in painting buildiii&;s consists in an elegant expression of the dif- 
ference of stones which compose them ; and this may be effected not only by 
their division, but also l)y tlieii- colours, especially in outside-work, which is not 
so much heeded as tiie inward, and is .sul>ject to more iiiconveniencies of rain, hail, 
and wind ; and if standing in damp places, their effect in a few years visibly ap- 
pears, ir l!ie stones be not very hard, by the dropping of mouldings and projec- 
tures in si veral parts. 

Fountiiiiis n)ust be supposed to suffer much, and become very mossy by being 
dropped on; and so do tondjs and grave-stones, but principally pyramids, which 
are not set up so much for the sake of their polished bodies, as for their forms and 
huge bulk ; wherefore it is no great matter whether the stones of these be of one 
sort or colour or not: they are often seen of many sorts of stones, some as they 
have been found, and others changed through time: yet the cement suffers most, 
by being eat up ; whereby the stones get loose, and must needs drop. Again, some 
stones, being more weak and brittle than others, and corroded by the air, damp- 
ness, and drought, are broke in pieces by the pressure of those over them, and thus 
leave gaps and breaks, wherein the rain gathers, out of which grow weeds, moss, 
and other greens, sometimes whole branches ; all which, at the years end, decay, 
and become green sap, trickling thence down the stones. 

We shall here stop a little to say something touching abuses. I know not how- 
some can so far relish slovenliness, as to spoil not only statues and tine figures, but 
also entire buildings ; if they were broken or mouldered pieces, ruins, and other 
decayed stones, it would be no damage if ever so much muddled and be-dropped ; 
but it is very improper to serve entire and fine figures thus, and in places too where 
are neither trees or any thing else to occasion it. The same they do in buildings look- 



40 Of Architecture. 

ing as fresh as at first ; were the spots seen on theiu, natural to the stones, it would 
be more proper than all the gutters usually represented to trickle down them : 
vheroforc care must he taken, bofore we begin to paint things supposed to be drop- 
ped on, that a difterence may api)ear between nearness and distance ; for as spots 
in clothes are more visible near than a-far oft", so the faintness of remote objects 
nmst be observed. But let me ask. What foulness of wet and dust can stick to 
smooth bodies, which rain, hail, or snow do not wash oflT? But they may decay 
and l)e consumed by time; especially those facing the north, which sutler all ex- 
tremities. We see many instances of decay in ancient buildings, where are figures 
so eaten up by time, that it is hardly discernible, whether they represented men 6r 
women ; like figures of snow partly dissolved by the sun-beams. 

I speak not here so much against the dropping upon and muddling such objects, 
as of the abuse w hen the cause of such an effect does not appear ; for without a 
probable reason why a thing should be thus, or thus, art becomes obstinacy. But 
to return to our subject. 

It is certainly praise-worthy to take some pains in shewing the stones of build- 
ings, and their veining and eyeing, when tliey are judiciously and agreeably 
disposed, according to rule : I say it is commendable to him w ho understands 
perspective. ' 

The parts of building within (which are not so subject to the teeth of time), are 
not so apt to decay as those without; the cement also lasts longer, which makes 
them keep clean and entire, their joints too seem almost invisible, and the whole to 
be as one stone. For this reason we must avoid the mistakes of some painters, who 
vein and eye their work, and afterwards divide it into stones, whereby one vein or 
eye happens oftentimes to run through two or three Stones at once ; whence we must 
conclude it to be what it is, mere painting and not the life : whereas 1 think it the 
most certain way first to divide the work into stones, and then to marble and eye 
them ; observing that each stone have a particular eye, to shew the difference be- 
tween the casual dropping and the marbling. 

Marl)le buildings have a beautiful efl'ect when the architecture is fine and well or- 
namented ; and this as well in painting as the life : orderly disposition is one of the 
best reasons thereof, without which it cannot have that vast agreeableness. 

A well-informed architect takes especial care of the setting the stones of his build- 
ing in such a manner as to blazon its beauty, and improve it, and thereby create 
harmony; wherefore he disposes the eye-veiny stones in the propcrest manner ; for 
instance, in a single-colonaded portico, the veiny eyes must oppose each other, 
sloping from out to in, or contrary. The same method must be observed in the pilas- 
ters, and all parts that are paired ; so that the work may appear regular at a dis- 



Of Arcliitcclure. 41 

liinco, takitJpf especial care lliat tliry Ijp ('yed alike, to krop thn eyp always in a ba- 
lance Ijetweeu them. The stones for the architrave, frieze, and cornice, should he 
so chosen, that the veining fall perpendicular, in order to krcp the nifinltcrs di^tinft ; 
which they would not he were the veins (o fall in with the niouldin}^s. 

It remains to be observed in marbling columns, that the eye-veins ought to receive 
the strongest light on the relieved and swelling parts, in order to aid the flat of the 
picture by art ; which nature wants not, as b(;ing round of iierself: wherefor*; it 
would look ill, that the most dark of the eye-veins come on the weaker parts, be- 
cause it would render the effect you proposed abortive. 

Imagine a piece of walling divided into three paimels, on each side of whicli stand 
twocoliunns; the two iirst ought to oppose each other; their veining must either 
be level or run diagonally against each other, outwardly or inwardly : the two others 
must do the same, and so on. 



CHAP. VI. 

Of RUINS. 

xiiTHERTO we have spoken of the beauty aad regularity of entire buildings ; where- 
fore it is proper next to treat of fragments and ruins, equally necessary with the 
former. 

I have sometimes wondered how it happens, that among the painters of figures and 
landscape, who make use of buildings and other brick-work, so few exhibit whole 
and highly finished ones : all they shew is, ruins, broken walls, and decayed stones, 
but seldom entire and perfect structures ; because, as I take it, they will be at no 
trouble to search antiquity for the forms and most beautiful parts of architecture, 
■whereby they might learn to produce something curious ; asupinity proceeding from 
their want of knowledge, and ambition to obtain it. 

Although many think that a piece of ruins does not require so great a regard as an 
entire building, they are much mistaken ; for the one as well as the other depends 
on measure and proportion : yet some will go and throw down a part of a building, 
and intermix with it some fragments of capitals, pieces of friezes, cornices, and the 
like, of an order foreign to the building; which, though very wrong, they salve by 
supposing, that when a building is in ruins no one will have the curiosity to examine 
the rubbish to see whether there be a wrong capital, frieze, or cornice ; and, grant- 
ing such were to be found, the fault would be none, since those broken parts might 
be brought thither casually. But this is a lame excuse : to speak the truth, 1 can- 

VOL. II. G 



42 Of .Irrliitcchirc. 

not apprt'heiid how any one can he so wilful, since no more knowled^o and tronblo 
are necessary to the liest than tlie worst of things, to the whole than to the half; in 
the one we must use the foot-rule and compasses as well as in the otlier. If a beau- 
tiful remain of a great building adorn a tine landsca|)e, and look grand, how much 
more one in perfection? He then who will take pains may certainly, by practice, 
overcome all difficulties, if he ha;e ambition enough to study the best things. But 
let me not be understood to speak against the choice of ruins, much less endeavour 
to hinder any one from the use of them ; since 1 am sensible, that every man has na- 
turally a particular taste for some thiiig (as we have formerly said) wherein he may 
excel. I desire not to discourage painters of ruins, or to raise a pique against that 
sort of objects; my only drift is to shew, that we ought to study the rests of anti- 
quity with care and attention, and chiefly to learn the anci(;nt state of old structures, 
in order to know perfectly what they were in their best condition. 



CHAP. VII. 

PRINCIPAL DIKECTIONS TOR PAINTING THE ORNAMENTS OF 
HALLS, ROOMS, &C. 

In this sort of work we must, in the first place, have an eye to the regularity and 
division of the architecture, and, if that be beautiful, not in the least hurt it under 
pretence of decorum, or acting painter-like ; and if at any time we are obliged to 
alter this conduct, it must nevertheless be in favour of the architecture. 

2. That the painting, of what kind soever it be, must tend to the lustre and mag- 
nificence of the building ; 1 speak with respect to painting the wood-work, whether 
it be marbled or plain. 

3. That the ornaments to be painted agree with those of the room, and be go- 
verned by the same order in architecture. 

4. That in pannels, niches and windows ought to be artfully painted, what you 
would have appear to be real or naturally there, whether tapestry or prospect; if 
tapestry, it must appear to be such ; if a view, it must look like a view ; the former 
by being bordered, and the latter by its sky or sun every where agreeing with the 
light of the room. 

5. The master must beware of representing in a room three or more difTerent 
hours of the day at the same time ; nor in histories, unless they be in the manner of 
tapestry. 



Of A I dulcet inc. 'i3 

(i. He inusL ucvi-T inclose wliite inurlili; huss-rflicC^ witli \vr,od-\vork, a>. biiiiLC re- 
pugnant to custom and likeliliood. 

Lastly, since excess often aliutts the niajcsly ol u lalnic, tlie artist slxinld avoid 
uiany littitiHsses in the divisions and ornaniL-nls : on sucli occasions lli^to^i( al lij^nrcH 
should not exceed three or four feet in height, lie tin; painting ever so large: tajiestry 
figures exceeding the life are unjnstiliahle; th(;y look monstrous in a sinall lor.in, 
and lessen a larger. 

it wen- to be wished, that great men and lovers, who lM.speak such works, Jitid 
some previous knowledge of such things as these ; at least, that they were infornjcd 
of thein, and would assent to tiie artist's opinion in thi: exeeulion of llitui; bince it 
is reasonable that his d<!sign, if it ))leases, be followed. 

Few artists are solicitous about iiisi<le ornaments, either in reference to their ele- 
gance and sjjlendour, or their uses and convenience ; as is evident in many old mas- 
ters works, wherein we generally see too great a simi)licity, all is plain and mean ; 
tables, benches, chairs, kitchen-stuff, drinking-vessels, &c. And, what is more, 
oftentimes a company of old and young people in a room with never a « hair in it ; 
and sometimes, no more than bare walls, and a curtain hanging for no purpose : or- 
naments and foliage are seldom seen in their works ; and when they are, they are so 
improperly and disjunctively applied, that we must conclude them rather to serve 
for humour than decorum : certain signs that such masters were ignorant both of the 
naturalness, needfulness, and application of objects. 

It is certain that the ancient Greeks and Ilomayis were not originally so sumptu- 
o«s in their house-furniture as afterwards they came to be ; and it is as easy to think, 
that there was a difference between the nobility and commonalty, as well in their 
buildings and dress, as in other respects : the one used plate at his table ; the other, 
earthen-ware or painted wood ; the one had bass-reliefs, statues, hangings, or tapes- 
tries in his house; the other was content with bare walls; each according to his 
fancy or ability. Truly I am surprised to think of my first composition, and how 
disjointed my conceptions were; often exhibiting a royal history in a stable or cot- 
tage, and as often the contrary : questionless every master of a house furnishes it 
with what is proper for each apartment, whether kitchen, chamber, state-room, or 
gallery ; one apartment has a bed or couch and its appurtenances, chests, tables, 
and chairs ; another has hangings more or less costly, door-carpets, stands, sconces, 
looking-glasses, &c. Another has benches, a chimney-piece, circular couches fitting 
the table, and other things proper to the room : and thus, other apartments. 

Some imagine that chairs were not anciently in use, but men sat on cushions, as 
in the Eastern countries, or else rested on couches. When a certain peison had re- 

G 2 



44 Of' Architectvrc. 

presented ALneas and Dido in a stately hall, and she placed on a low small half-step, 
covered with a carpet, with the young Ascanuis in her lap, and JEneas by her side, 
and some ladies sitting,' here and there on cushions on the floor (which was covered 
with a green carpet), I was surprised to see a large round table stand in a corner on 
1 side of the painting, and this serving up as for an entertainment, and yet not a chair 
vear it ; I asked the master why the ladies had not chairs or benches, and whether 
this circumstance was thus to be found in history ? he answered, that in those times 
.'either chairs or benches were known. 1 could hardly forbear laughing; but ask- 
ing him, whtlher the company were to stand to their victuals, because of the height 
of the table, he began to see his error; yet in excuse said, " They will make use of 
the couch which stands yonder against the hanging." This would have been a tole- 
rable conu-off, had the couch been made for tiie table; but by ill luck the one was 
square, the other round. I said no more, because I would not augment his blushes. 

Others have made the same mistake, as was the case of one who, as the report 
goes, representing Abrahanis offering, drew him with a scimitar or bending sword in 
his hand, and a straight scabbard by his side. 

1 once made the same blunder, when my inclination for composition was greater 
than my skill, in the story o( Hercules si^mmn^ by Omphale. I had seen, in a design 
of BartJtolet, that Hercules was much bigger than any of the women ; wherefore I 
also drew liitii larger, and dressed in women's apparel, having sleeves closed at hands 
(like Sardunajxihts amongst his women, in Meriaii's Historical Chronicle), a distaff 
in his girdle, a spindle in liis hand, and pearls about his neck ; and, in order to shew 
that they were Omphale s clothes, I placed her by him stark naked. Now I appeal 
to any one how well the garment could lit Omphale, seeing it was neither too short 
or too straight for Hercules, though half as tall again as she. But I afterwards rec- 
tified my conduct. 

It is plain that such oversights proceed from ignorance or lame instruction, and 
principally in what concerns embellishment ; I say, embellishment of any kind what- 
soever, wl'.ether within or without doors ; for few know the importance of this part 
of art, and the uncommon effects of it. 

We may, from the works of old and judicious masters, here and there borrow 
.some of their thoughts, and use them in a proper manner in our own works. The 
famous Poussin, in his finding of Moses, shews the Nile, with a water-god ; and with 
good reason (as we shall prove in the chapter treating of the authority painlers have 
to represent spiritual and inanimate beings under himian forms) : but it is ridiculous, 
in my opinion, that the same figure, with all its adjuncts, should be placed on the. 
strand of a river, and near it Narcissus viewing himself in the water ; on a suppo- 



Of Archilt'cliire. 4.'» 

sitiori tliaf, if it Ite hut :i vvatfi-Kod, all is vvdl ; for, thinks th*; master, — it «uit« well. 
It is a fine figiir*'. — Besides, if Poussiii durst do it. Why may not we? hut it is agaiiiKt 
reason ; imlecd, were the sphinx and children left out, it may he passahle enough. 

Who sets out a room of entertainment, and it does not shew whether the dinner 
be over or not, hy the cloth laid, bottles, glasses, cisterns, and all things in order, 
as before dimier ; and empty bottles lying in disorder, empty dishes, a dog gnaw- 
ing a l)oiie, chairs displaced, table-cloth half tiu'tied up, and such like, after dinner ? 
Or, 

Who can approve in Teslas dipping oi Achilles, T/tetis's lying in an open gallery, 
where also is a cradle? 

As for moveable embellishments, it is improper to shew Mark Anthony and Cleo- 
patra in tluir grandeur and luxury, without a ntinue, and as in a private collation, 
seeing we know they had such a crowd of music, buffoons, jugglers, and other loose 
people about then). Or can we represent Christ lying in the manger, attended hy 
Joseph and Mnri/, and the three kings waiting on him, and that in a stable full of 
beast-provender, and on the wall a Can and flail hanging, besides other utensils of 
husbandry, and yet not a countryman or servant to appear ; or a chest, box, saw, or 
square to be seen ? (whether Joseph hired the stable, or found it void of people, is 
another consideration :) moreover, one of the principal figures is in a suit of armour, 
and bare-headed, and yet his head-piece is not to be seen. 

One of my fellow disciples once painted a collation, and I asked him. Why he put 
not knives on the table? He answered, That knives were not antique. Very well, 
thought I, are then the bread and meat, and a three-legged stool with a back stanfl- 
ing by, antique ? 

From all which considerations it is plain, that a judicious master must take par- 
ticular thought about the by-works; seeing it is as bad to leave out something that- 
is needful, as to add what is unnecessary. 



CHAP. VIII. 

OP THE PICTURES PROPER TO VARIOUS APARTMENTS. 

J. HE nature, property, and use of pictures in general, is, to keep the senses, by a 
pleasing variety of objects, as figures, landscape, &c. in a continual employ and con- 
templation. 
Their nature has a near affinity with that of the things they represent, when those 



*16" Of Architi • .ure. 

are done by a skilful iiaii:l ; and therefore they can, when natural things are wautinjj, 
fully satisfy. 

Thiir property lies in their ajjplieation to meet plaees ; and the; eannot he dis- 
placeil \vithout hurting, nay undoing naturalness. 

As for the use of pictures, it is in the occasion we have for them, and the places 
they are to serve for, in order to gratify the senses of the owners ; they must be well 
expressed, and fall in with the architecture in the agreement of the various objects 
with the ornaments of the buildings. 

If this be unintelligible, 1 shall endeavour to explain myself. 1 say then, That it 
is not sufficient for a painter to design work for apartments at random, and introduce 
therein what fancies he pleases, or best understands ; for he ought to consider wl>e- 
ther it agree with the place, and be proper there: if therefore he would go on with 
certainty, he must, in the first place, consult the architecture, and then the three 
points following : 

1. The quality, or condition of the building. 

2. The building itself. 

3. The apartments in it. 

First, let him consider whether the owner be a prince, lord, magistrate, or 
merchant. 

Secondly, whether the building be public, as a town-house, church, palace, &c. or 
private, as for a merchant or citizen. 

Lastly, whether it be a hall, chamber, parlour, kitchen, or the like. 

Thus far in general : but if we build a palace for a king, the apartments must be 
contrived for other uses than those for a merchant, or even a town-house : for in this 
latter we find many rooms fitted for purposes, opposite to a palace; as may be seen 
in that fine model, the Stadt-house at Amsterdam, where architecture has wonder- 
fully disposed all the rooms to their several uses. Nor is the judgment of the paint- 
ei-s or architects less conspicuous in the proper placing the pictures in each apart- 
ment; for each piece (chiefly sculpture) is so ordered, as to allude to the rooms; 
whence we know what uses the rooms are put to, and by the rooms what the paint- 
ings, stone-figures, and bass-reliefs signify. 

Wherefore it is very necessary to consider the nature of the apartments in order to 
govern our work thereby ; as first, 

In tiie hall below suits well a grey bass-relief; or else trophies painted on the 
walls after the life. 

In an anti-chamber, where people wait for commands, grey ornaments arc also 
best ; sometimes intermixed with flowers, but very sparingly. 

In an audience, or presence room, should be tapestries, or picturfes with figures. 



Of Afihitcclinr. 47 

as bii!,' as the lift-, of inagiiificcut traiisactious wliicli luippciK li iit apurliiitnts or 
pahui's. 

Ill the ladies Aisitiiig-rooin iiinst he other sorts of eiiihellisliinents, such as fnof, 
Howers, hiiulscapes, fine thoughts, virtuous representations, and the most clothed 
and modest iiistories. 

In tlie nursery arrive bass-relieft!, and painted emblems or morals; wliereby t)ie 
children may learn good manners, and inure lender years to virtuous actions : to 
these may be added some flowers, fruit, birds, and such like. 

In the kitchen may be seen the representations of culinary lurniture, hunting of 
deer, the picture of some maid or other servant, or a dog or cat; but these must be 
mostly grey or wood-colour, on account of the smoke, which otherwise would sully 
the colours. 

In the gallery may appear all sorts of hunting-equipage painted on the walls from 
the life. 

In the upper rooms suit landscape, and all kinds oi" beautiful prospects. 

In the master's bed-chamber are proper, some beautiful faces, and naked children 
painted afler the life. 

In the children's bedroom nothing must be seen but foliage or branch-work. 

The study may be adorned with paintings, in grey marble, of learned men, phi- 
losophers, &c. 

In the summer-house, being a place for the enjoyment of company and entertain- 
ments, suit nothing better than Bacchanalian pieces, sportive herdsmen, dancingJ?, 
brooks, and fountains. 

We proceed now to the decorations over cliiraneys, and on doors, in each apart- 
ment. 

Over the dining-room chimney place, Conitis, god of meals, accompanied by Ta.ste 
and Smell ; and, on the door, LcElitia, or Joy. 

Over the hall-chimney may be Decorum, or Authority, accompanied by Pallas, 
or Virtue, and Ilonos, or Honour ; and, on the door, Understanding. 

Over the lady's visiting-room chimney, Modesty, accompanied by Obedience and 
Diligence ; and, on the door. Fidelity. 

Over the chimney in a saloon, or meeting room for youth, may be seen Inventus, 
or Youth, attended by Grace and Eloquence; and, on the door, Gaudium, or Joy. 

Over tlie nursery chimney plac;.- Education, and by it a young branch tied to a 
stick ; and, on the door, Obediencf . 

Over the kitchen chimney, PrudeiUia, or Prudence, accompanied by Ceres and 
Bacchus; and, on the door, Diligence. 

Over the bed-chamber chimney, Quiet; and the door, Security. 



48 0/ Architecture. 

Over the study, or closet cliiiuuey, ^Vi.sdom, or Science; and, on the door, liar- 
pocrates. 

On the doors of tlie side-rooms going out of the hall. Clemency and Vigilance; 
and, between them, Economy. 

On tlie pantry-door, Abundance. 

On the cellar-door, Sileims. 

On the garret or loft-door, Winter. 

On the garden-door. Flora. 

On the orchard-door, Pomona. 

In the green-house, between the stoves, the figure of persons who have been trans- 
formed into trees and plants, as Cyparissns, Myrrha, Daphne, &c. On the door 
Avithin, Apollo ; and, on the outside, Diana. 

On the stable-door all sorts of stable-appurtenances, as a bridle, saddle, housing, 
stirrups, dung fork, shovel, curry-con)b, &c. 

On the privy-door Momtis laughing. 

And now, that I may conceal, nothing from the artists, I shall subjoin the pictures 
proper to be put into chimneys, which may be various; because we are not confined 
to the fire, as being only used during the winter-season ; the spring, summer, and 
autumn affords us a large field for fine inventions ; and, since the place, for three 
quarters of the year, becomes any thing we find proper, we can either shut them up, 
or leave them open, or contrive in niclics all sorts of statues or busts, bass-reliefs, 
and other ornaments, as cisterns, vasa, flower-pots, baskets of fruit, musical instru- 
ments, globes, and such-like : we can have them be open with doors or without, with 
one door or two half-ones, and represent vistos or prospects, such as a flower-garden, 
a public place with fountains, a street of houses, a grove, lane, frontispiece, pantry, 
wine-cellar, an alcove with a couch, or a library, and such like. In fine, we may 
introduce any thing that is different from the furniture of the apartment. But care 
must be taken, that the painting have a natural and high horizon, with little or no 
skv, to gain more depth; vistos of apartments one within another are also not im- 
proper ; but if we represent without-door prospects as aforesaid, it is more proper to 
paint doors, seemingly to give the room air : and seeing it often happens that such a 
painting cannot have the most advantageous light, and is sometimes in shade by the 
projecture of the chimney, we should contrive the work accordingly, and so as not 
to appear like painting, but nature itself. 

The designs proper to such places (for the sake of those who are not fertile in in- 
vention) may be such as follow. 

1. Spring. Flora, setting out with a gay and joyful air, has a basket of spring- 
flowers under her left arm ; with her right hand behind she a little lifts up her 



Of Arcliitcctuie. 4y 

jj,-o\vn : liLT liifl foot re.vts on a sti.}), and \\v.v riglit lifts »ip ; lior bnust is soiiuAvliat 
to llu; liglit; boliind, in a low distaiioe, is eccii a parterre, oriKiiueiited «ilh Aases: 
behind her, \\c may place another flfjurc in the shade, ascending the steps, in order 
to flinrj ofl' the ofl-soape, and bring forward the fore-fignrc. Flora must be propor- 
tioned to the size of the fii-t; place; if not as big as iif<', let her be a young danisfl, 
and, if tiic': face be shaded by the chimney, make good advantage of the reflection ; 
the same design may be also executed M'ith children. 

2. Summer. Pomfvui with a ])asket of fruit in her lap; and, in the distanro, an 
orchard, and some C'vjnih busily gathering fruits and flower.^. 

3. Autunm. Jiacc/ins represented in an entrance or gate-way, hung roimd willi 
vine-branches and grapes ; and, if you please, a young satyr by him, with a cup : this 
design may be also represented with children. 

4. Anleros, as a youth, crowned with laurels, stands on a threshold, leaning on a 
torch or else a long arrow, pointing inwiirdly to a library, wlierein are an astrolabe 
and [globe, and against the wall a lyre hanging; his garment, fastened on each 
shoulder, is reddish purple ; his look agreeable and majestic ; his mouth open, as if 
inviting somebody to come in; he stands on the left side against the door, which 
conies half in shade, against the off-scape, so that he is strongly set off; his face and 
under-parts are fronting ; his breast turning to the liglit; this design either left or 
right is equally good, and so are the before-mentioned. 

5. Cupid is seen here sweetly smiling, having a flask on his arm, and a spa- 
water-bottle in his hand, which he holds up, as if he were saying, — Rare waters! 
By him is an elegant stand or tea-table, on which another Cupid is placing a silver 
salver with glasses, and a silver sugar-box and spoon; behind may be seen a wine- 
cellar lighted by a candle or lamp ; we should also discover part of a summer-house, 
or fountain, or a gallery, &c. 

6. In this design we shew a serenade l)y three boys; the first dressed as a Punch- 
an-ello, with a bag-pipe, hautboy, or flute ; the second as a harlequin, with a violin ; 
and the third as a Scaramouch, with a guitar, and all three in their proper postures : 
harlequin in set posture stands to the right against a post, holding the violin to his 
ear; Puuch-an-cllo, sitting against the other post on the threshold, holds his flute 
from his mouth, and looks forward, laugliiug and shewing his teeth, his head sinking 
backwards somewhat into his neck : Scaramouch is in the middle, with his guitar 
under his arm, and his head quite sunk into his shoulders ; he is attentive, holdinfr 
his fore-linger to his nose, and his legs close. Behind these buffoons we might shew 
a balustrade over a water in shade, and on it an ape sitting; in the water may be 
gondolas, with masks in them ; or else a street, and such like. 

Because the breadth of the aforesaid opening cannot be very great, you may, by 

VOL. II. H 



oO Of Architccluvf. 

shutting the door nioro or less, or by placing somewhat between it, get advantageous 
shades, if the matter require it: there ought at most but a figure and half to be ui 
the light, and a third in shade. The colours will effect the same. Such paintings 
should not be muddled, but boldly handled, and the lights strong. 

Thus much for withont-door views ; proceed we now to design for chimneys which 
are closed. 

1. A vase of white marble, gold or silver, or the belly gold, and the neck and 
foot of hrpis lazuli, in a niche of red mnrble, or porphery ; and the jaumbs to 
be of a lighter stone, hung with festoons of all sorts of fine leaves, intermixed with 
flowers : these festoons should be very large, like two arms, and spreading in order 
to break the light ground, that the middle ornament, whether white marble, silver, 
or gold, may have the greater force. 

2. The bust of Bacchus in white marble, crowned either with vine leaves and 
branches and grapes, or else mulberries wiih their greens ; on each side, on a ground 
of free-stone, festoons of white and blue grapes, and between those may be placed 
some proper instruments, as cymbals, timbrels, tabors, hautboys, and Pans flutes. 
The bust is on a pedestal of Pisan marble, h» a niche, as before ; the niche must 
rise as much as possible, that the bust may have its full height; but if the chimney 
and niche do not admit of a figure in full proportion, you may make a boy of it : 
if you leave out the pedestal, you can place tire same in the niche, but a third less 
in height. Under the niche may be a faint bass-relief of grey or other marble ; or 
else a festoon of pine leaves, intermixed with some beautiful flowers. 

3. The bust of Apollo ; and on each side some musical instruments, either painted 
as carved, or natural. Under the niche may be a square pannel, and on it a carved 
torch, with a quiver across, through a garland of laurel. Among the natural in- 
stnuuents, some laurel or olive branches ; and, among the carved ones, some rolls 
of paper, with geometric and other such figures; for these can be better ordered in 
bass-relief, than among those naturally painted. 

4. A deep niche ; in which may be seen a table, with an elegant stand or foot 
of fine wood, partly gilt: on the table, china tea-furniture; as dishes, saucers, 
tea-pot, and a silver-chased tea-canister : or else coffee equipage ; as a silver coffee- 
pot, a silver salver with pipes, a knife, some tobacco in a paper, a fine chafing dish 
with fire; and, on the groud, in the shade, some bottles of wine. 

/). The table in this design may be put to various uses; it may be served with me- 
lons, or baskets of fruit, as peaches, nectarines, apricots, filberds, &c. 

6. On such a table may be also music-books and instruments, as a lute, violin, 
hautboy, &c. And, on the ground, a cistern of water, with bottles of wine standing 
upright therein. 



Of A ic/ii/'ec tare. 6 I 

7. Ill this last we may place a round bass-relief, ropn;senling a Kilting chilfl, of 

flcHh-coloureil inarble, on a l>lue ground, blowing bubbles : round it, a white 
marble moulding ; and, underneath, a festoon. 



CHAP. IX. 

niiscnirTioN of sRVEiiAr. imcturf.s adaptkd to the five 

OKDEUS IN ARCIIITECTUUE. 

oiNCK no uKunier of describing fine apartments is more proper than this, which ex- 
hibits things as if we really saw them, I shall therein give an architectonic view of 
each order, and in as conspicuous a manner as I myself conceive it. The parti- 
cul;a*s must then be well regarded ; because they arc so linked together, that, by 
overlooking a small circnnistance, the whole chain may be broke, without ever 
getting a true idea of the thing. 

We shall confine the subject to five apartments, and describe in each the pictures, 
whicli shew the nature, height, custom, and other proiiertics relating to the orders 
of this building : and since the Tuscan order, either in parts or altogether, is rough 
and massy, we shall exhibit here. 

The Pictures of Polyphemus and Galatea. 

Vohjpheirais, on the sea-shore, inflamed with the love of the beautiful Galatea, 
■who came to divert herself on the pleasant surges of the billows, strove to please 
her with his singing and music, and thereby to gain her favours ; but she was deaf 
to his suit : his rough-hewn enormous size, and frightful aspect, were her aversion ; 
■wherefore she shuns him, and derides his addresses. 

A calm sea was seen. On the second ground, to the left, appeared a vast high 
rock, hanging over the sea, almost to the point of sight; all rough, and over-run 
■with moss and herbage, going off to the left very cragged ; up to it huge stones 
were piled on each other, as steps (but three times higher) from the edge of the 
water; on the lowermost of them sat the monstrous Ci/clops, as a wild and savage 
man ; his skin very swarthy and hairy ; his head and beard full of bristly black hair, 
jwpreading over his shoulders and breast; he had but one eye-brow, aud that as wide 
as bis forehead, hanging over the eye, (which, according to Homer, was as large as 
a shield) placed in the middle of his wrinkled forehead; his blubber lip turned up 
towards his broad and flat nose, like that of a negro ; shewing his teeth, set like 
those of a saw, out of his gluttonous jaws, with a grim look : by him lay his staff, 
which (like those of the herdsmen) was crooked at one end, and, according to Ovtd, 



59 Of Architecture. 

bigger than tlio mast of a .ship: a knapsack or pouch linno,- at liis si(h^: his raiment 
was goats-skin sewed together, which he had sliook from oil' his slioidders, possibly 
to discover to Galulea his conceited fine shape: this garment was cream colour, 
spotted M ith black. He sat very rudely, leaning a little back against the rock ; his 
left leg was stretched out towards the water, and his right, with the foot fore-short- 
ened, lifted up, lay over apiece of the rock; his flute, with an hundred pipes, he held 
ill liis left hand, up to his ujouth, as if he had been just playing. His head inclined, 
with his eye to heaven, towards Cupid, who stood near and flattered him ; his tnoutli 
was open, as if he were singing, and his right hand, upright on his knee, seemed to 
beat time. It was curious to see the uietiiod Cupid took in the midst of his play 
to stick an arrow into Voli/phcmus's breast without his being sensible of it. 

Cupid Mas al»out half as big as the Cyclops aru) or leg; so that, though he had 
climbed up the second step, be could scarce reach the Cyplops shoulder, in ^rder 
to stroke, with his right hand, the hair from the giant's eye ; when, pointing with a 
stretched linger of the same hand towards the sea, he, laughing, stuck with the 
other an arrow in Volyphcmuss breast, under bis lifted arm. Cupid was of a beau- 
tiful rosy complexion, bis hair yellowish white ; a quiver, tied with a red sash, hung 
by his side, and his bow lying uear him. 

The fair Galatea, in the mean time sitting on a large sea-shell in the middle of the 
nearest distance, was drawn by two dolphins, encompassed with tritons and nereids, 
sounding their shelly trumpets, and playing on timbrels and other instruments ; 
she sat frenting in the shell, and the dolphins, which she guided gently, turned to the 
right; she was fullowed by other tritons, bearing beautiful naked virgins, and a 
crowd of sea monsters, who, gradually uniting with the farthest distance, disap- 
peared. This whole crowd was grouped in the form of a crescent ; Galatea appeared 
to surpass all in beauty. 

I at first thought this might possibly be Venus herself; because three beauties 
attended her, whom I took to be the three Graces; but she looked somewhat 
younger, and not so wanton as Vcm/5 is usually represented; her breast also rose 
less, and her head-attire was quite difTerent from \e71us ; for her white hair, twisted 
in tresses, and elegantly flowing, was here and there stuck with white bell-flowers; 
and the locks in each side tied together on the head in a tuft, and, hanging down 
both before and behind, made plainly appear, how gently she glided over the bil- 
lows. What most charmed me, was, that, in this great crowd, one might see the 
particular sways, turnings, and affections of every figure ; one moved slowly, another 
swiftly, as their beards, hair, and veils plainly shewed ; some bending backward, as 
blowing, others forward almost to the water ; some were full of foam ; others 
swimming as evenly as if they moved on looking-glass, so that their glitter was 



Of Arc/i/tcrtiire. Vj 

Krniro visiMo in tlio watnr. This socoiid V<imis (as I sluill rail lu-r) liarl a fcrcfiii-li 
l)liip scarf, wliicli, coming over licr lap, twiiird alioiil licr rit;lil leg; aHvaiiriiii; In r 
nakod left Icir, she set lier foot on tin- srroll of llic sIil-II ; Ikt head, a litlh- fliiii;: 
1)ark, incliiKMl to lior liglit shoulder; Ikt breast piojeelint; ; and the right arm, 
Ktretchiii:;- aeross Ihm- body, supported her rein-haiid on her nakirl kn<'o; lior conn- 
tonance was modest and smiling; her eyes sonnwhal downish, made me think the 
sini was too [)o\v(Mful for her; but, I more nearly perceived she was talkiii"- to a sea- 
nymph or nereid, who, near her chariot, lay behind on a Triton, staring towards 
the shore at Polyphemus, whither Galatea, with her left hand a little fore-shorten- 
ed, was pointing; the top of the rock was almost shaded by a cloud, which shade 
run across the piece, and set off Calatea and her retinue. The whole group was 
agreeably lighted ; and, though the light was strong, yet the shades near the water 
were soft and melting, by the glitter or reflections of it, which, in my opinion, was 
a fine piece of conduct ; behind the rock, towards the right side, appeared beauti- 
ful tracts of verdant land, adorned with variety of trees, extending crescent wavs 
by the jwint of sight, and some herds of oxen, goats, and sheep, were grazing ; 
in the oUscape were hills, and on the right side a town ; forwards, on the same 
side in the corner, a piece of a sea-rock appeared, which Galatea and her company 
seemed to avoid. 

As we have represented the persons of rolyphcmus and Galatea, so it will not 
be amiss to shew those of the tritons and nereids also. Pausanias describes the 
tritons thus : their upper parts, from the navel, were human, but covered with 
thin, sharp, and rough scales, and downwards their bodies, instead of feet, ended 
in a large split tail ; their hair long and bluish, and entangled as if in a twist ; their 
eyes greenish ; their ears, nose, and mouth, like those of men, the latter very larce 
and wide ; their teeth like those of a panther ; their fingers and nails like the out- 
side of an oyster-shell, or such a substance ; on their breasts and bellies, and under 
their ears, they had fins like little wings, which helped them in swimming. 

Alexander ah Alexandra says, that the nereids are shaped like beautiful \'irgins 
down to the navel ; but the lower parts, joining together like a fish, end in an eel's 
tail ; their heads are mostly unveiled, their hair disheveled, and beset with pearls, 
coral, and other sea productions. 

Second Picture. 
Polyphemus, from the top of the rock, where he sat playing, viewing his beloved 
Galatea bestowing her smiles on Acis, was so enraged thereat, that, full of furv, he 
tore a piece from the rock, with intention to crush them both ; which Galatea escap- 
ed by diving into the sea; butuJa>, not nimble enough jn running, was struck with it. 



54 Uf Arcftitcctinr. 

This piece is a composition or sequel to the preceding : the rock is here placed on 
a contrary side to the former ; behind is an island also, in the form of a crescent, 
towards tlie right extends across ; beyond it the sea is seen along the horizon, the 
rock on the right side goes down in rough steps, and follows a sandy way forward 
on its left, to the middle of the piece where it ends in the frame. The unhappy Acis 
falls here in the sand under the huge piece of rock, with his arms extended, and his 
face downwards, yet somewhat turned towards the sea; he is not quite dead, be- 
cause the great weight rolling in the air only took him in the leg as he was running; 
the enraged cyclops not content with this, foams at moutli, and gripes a heavier piece 
of the rock in order to destroy the faithless Galatea; Mcgcera, with her smoking 
pitchy torch, urges him on, and enflaming him with hellish fury, points towards the 
sea at the objects of his revenge, at which he looks back ; and now what a force he 
shews in rending the rock ; all his members are distorted, his sinews stretch, and his 
muscles swell, drawing in his mouth on one side, with the upper teeth, and his eye 
is half shut. Does he not look as if he were anatomized or flead ; nay, the least of 
his muscles works and presses through his thick skin ; his hair stands an end, and 
his breast-skin garment being got loose from his girdle, drags on the ground, and he 
treads on it with his left foot; the goat's feet hanging to it appear to fly about ac- 
cording to his motion ; he bends double, one of his knees almost touching; his breast, 
and with his right foot against the rock, he, with both hands and all his i'orce, tears 
off apiece of it. Tisiphone, half behind him with her upper purts abo\e liis head, 
and her face a little fore-shortened and downwards points with her whole right hand 
(not a finger) at Galatea ; in her left hand are some serpents ami a fire-brand ; her gar- 
ment is black or dark grey, here and ther estained with blood ; tlie sea swells, and 
the billows beat with great violence against the rock, as if they would swallow up 
the shore. On the left side comes Galatea in her chariot drawn by two dolphins, 
not gliding, as before, but tossing sometimes on the top of the waves, and sometimes 
beneath them, w ith the hinder part of her chariot almost upright ; she stands stopping, 
with her arms fliuig out, looking back with amazement, and her reins slack, her 
disordered locks fly in loose tresses against the wind, caused by her swift motion ; 
her veil got loose, drops behind her into the sea ; her lovely members are overpow- 
ered by her inward troubles ; the muscles of her neck, before smooth, now rise, 
her heart seems to pant, and her legs faltering, she seems to sink ; her grace leaves 
he/, and she is no longer Galatea; fright has robbe<l her of her fresh colour, and 
shf is rather a marble statue than a living person. 

Considering this composition I stood surprised. Is it possible, thought I, to be 
a painting ? It is certainly past my understanding; it i.s reality itself, and yet it 



Of Arrhilechnc. .5.5 

»nnst Ik- a pirtinr; for wlial is too hard for (lie pciiril of a jiidiciniis mastor? Rf it 
what it will, it is real nature to me, and I am satis(i«;d. IJiil, to pror<f(J : 

III the distance, on the left side, .some ships appear in a storm, and two in the 
middle of the piece ridinj? at anchor, and a boat landin;^ some people : this mad«- 
me tiiink it was Ulifuscs, who had a desij^ii on the eye of the cruel and plnttononx 
devourer of men : it is even so— I can perceive tlieni to he f^#/TcA« by their armed 
gallie.s and whole equipage; tlie sea is white with froth, and the waves heat towards 
the point of sight ; the air is in commotion and full of driving clouds, wliich cause 
here and there large ground-shades; the main light falls on Polyphemus, and the 
under part of the rock, and takes in almost the whole shore forwards ; but the 
stone which falls on Acis, is with his under parts in sliade, caused by a bit of a 
side rock which strongly sets it oft' against the light : Cupid, in the moan time, above 
the horizon, comes flying forward, turning, full of sorrow and cries, to the right, 
down where vim lies; hi.s loft hand is up to one eye, and his right, wherein is his 
bow, over his head, to shade it from the sun ; his quiver is reversed, and the arrows 
drop into the sea ; Acis lies on the fore-ground with his shoulders bare, and he is 
seen a little right sideways ; his hands, half covered with sand, are wide open as 
if he were swimming, his hair is dark, and his garment dark green. Galatea, be- 
tween him and Polypliemus, with the rock, runs across the piece ; she is seen right 
sideways, and her face is fronting; the distance, consisting of hills, boscage, beau- 
tiful lawns and rivers, is clearly lighted i there appear also some cattle grazing, as 
in the former piece, under the impendance of the rock, and close to the sea lies a 
red cloth garment in shade ; undoubtedly left there by Acis, which was, in my 
opinion, artfully contrived, in order to point out the place where this unhappy cou- 
ple had been sitting; the shore is covered with cockles and many other sea produc- 
tions. A large greenish coloured tortoise is seen, making from under Acis towards 
the sea; Polyphemus's flute lies by him, but the bag still hangs by his side; 
the top of the rock is dark against light clouds driving thither ; the light comes from 
the side of the piece. 

After I had exactly weighed all the circumstances of the two pieces, I was con- 
sidering what the master's principal drift might be, and found them to be an exam- 
ple of love, or flattery of the senses, wantonly affecting the body without violence, 
in the person of Polyphemus, in the tirst piece : and, in Galatea an easy indifter- 
ence without any passion ; for I perceived her motion was smooth, and her beauty 
in its perfection; she was not attended by any Cupids, because such as have fins 
instead of wings usually wait on the nereids. I was so rejoiced at this observation, 
that I cannot express it. 

inquiring likewise what might be learned from the second picture, 1 concluded 



!)G Of Jrcfiitccfiin: 

that the author iiiteiuied to express the unhappy issue of love in ihe person of Gala- 
ica; a passion both warm and siulden ; for the least disorderly aficelion puts the 
chief nienibtrs of tlie body in comuiotion and disturbs the peace of rest; that of 
Polyphemus is violent : t'/(/*«/ is subject to compassion only, as 1 thiidv : vviicrrfore 
he ij» represented crying, possibly to shew a childishness ; for children conuuonly 
laugh or cry about things which seem strange to them. 

Co)ii)i!C)if oil the Characters in the aforesaid Pictures. 
Poli/phemus, the Sicilian herdsman, the most savage and gigantic of all the Cijclop^, 
was, according to Homer, son of Neptune and the nymph Thosa ; tlie word Cy- 
clops signifies, i)a\ing but one eye in the middle of the forehead, whereby some 
would imply, tlie thunder and lightning, according to the Greek names of his com- 
panions, Brontes, Sterope, and Pyradmon, and other effects of the air, round 
which they are always attending in readiness at the command of Jupiter ; the air, 
they say, being placed in the middle of heaven, as an eye in the head. Thus the 
commentators on Hesind in his Theogonia (Deorum Origo) deliver. 

Hesiod says, tliat Galatea, daughter of Nereiis and Uoris, is so named from her 
whiteness, signifying parabolically, the froth of the sea ; wherefore this poet as- 
cribes to her white hair and a face like milk: he says fmtiier, that some writers 
would, l)y Galatea, allude to the sweet water which falls into the sea, because no- 
thing is sweeter than milk ; and by Polypheimis, the air, ^^ hich lo^es the sweet 
food. 

The youth Aci^, is called by Ovid, son of the river Fauniis and Simethis, being 
lx)th young, beautiful, and well shaped. 

The tritons are counted by most of the poets, sons of Neptune n.ni\ Amphitrita ; 
because the sea, says Vermunder, is esteemed the mother or producer of many 
strange creatures, which its elements are very inclinable to ; and the ancient heathens 
perceiving this somewhat wonderful, ascribed to the sea some divinity, as tliey also 
did to those tritons, whose help they implored in dangers at sea. But they who 
examine snore narrowly into the jEgyptian hieroglyphics, say, that the tritons by 
their amphibious form of being human upwards, and dolphin-like downwards, are 
compared to the two watry virtues, saltness and sweetness, teaching us that both 
good and evil spring from their nature and constitution, to v.'it, good from the hu- 
man nature, and nothing but evil from the fishiness ; for the human form, says 
Phurnutus, is compared to sweet water, which is proper for the aliment of trees, 
herbs, and animals ; but the fishy part is compared to sea-water, which is noxious 
to the animals of the earth and air, and also to plants, causing them to die and wi- 
ther, as we read in Plutarch, of the nature of things. 



Of Archil cct lire. 57 

Touching llie nereids, we find in Pluto that tlierf wrrc an Imndird of thf-ni ; 
//p.vu;rf.say,s lifty, iiiid gives us their iiamos; of which Glance, Ci/modocr, Galnlca, 
Ci/renc, Driino, Deiojieia, Xaiilho, Arellntsa, Pliillodocc, Euridicc, NestB, Leu- 
cothiv, Spio, Thalia, Ci/dippc, Pasilhca, Li/rorias, Li-rca, JCphi/rc, Opis, Asie, 
Cli/vicuc and Ifalia, arc tli»; prin(;ipal : thi.ir lowiM" parts beinj; lish-iike has e;iveri 
the poets occasion to feign, that they were very beautiful nyniplis who accompa- 
nied their gods, viz. the Ocean, Thetis, Neptune, and Nereus and Doris their 
father and mother, and many others, who signify the diflR-rent quahties and various 
effects of the waters : they were styled mothers of the floods, I)ecause tlie rainy 
clouds, being exhaled from the sea, are the origin of floods ; wherefore, on ae- 
count of the virtue of the earth's moisture towards the procreation of animals, 
trees, fruits, flowers, &c. they were worshipped by the heathens as the nurses' 
of them. 

Having largely discussed the off-spring and signification of the characters in both 
the aforesaid pictures, we shall pass to a general explication of the latter. Har- 
mony in music arises from au agreeable mixture of discording and flat sounds with 
concording and sharp ones ; but in love it is otherwise, where dissinudarity cannot 
be brought to agree, or two hearts to join which do not sympathise by an harmony 
of humours. The hideous make of the Cyclops is frightful to the beauteous Gala- 
tea, who shuns him for her dearer Acis; by Polyphemm, in this last story, we 
learn that those persons sue in vain, who flatter themselves that their troublesome 
addresses gain the affections of those who hate them : contrarily, Acis blessed with 
the smiles of his mistress, shews us the danger of exposing ourselves to the resent- 
ment of a powerful rival, from whom at any time we must expect nothing but 
death. It may also, I say, serve for an example of the power of beauty, which 
so bewitched Acis, that he could not forbear loving, though at the expense of his 
life. Thus we are bewildered by our own inclinations, and brought to a place of 
inevitable misfortunes, where we are plunged in tears to the weakening of our vital 
strength, as in this fable of the young and amorous Acis when Galatea transformed 
him into a fountain. 

Opposite to these poetic pictures, I saw two others treating of love, but differ- 
ently, as being the sacred stories of Samson and Delilah ; the sense of the first is 
this : — 

Third Tabic, or Picture. 
Samson, resting on Delilah's lap, his hair is cut off whilst he sleeps, and the Plii- 
listines lie in wait to seize him. 

Here Samson is sitting near the centre of the painting on a carpet which covers 

VOL. II. I 



58 Of Archlficfiire. 

the floor, ami reaches over tliree circiihir steps before a couch, whereon sits Delilah, 
with his head in her lap ; her right foot rests on a small foot-stool, against which he 
is leaning, with his left knee somewhat raised ; the foot of that leg is under his right 
thigh, wiiich is somewhat fore-shortened, hut the leg is seen at full length, with 
his shin fronting; his right arm hangs down between his legs, resting on the outside 
of his hand, which is seen inwardly; supporting his head on his left arm over Deli- 
lah's la|), with elbow standing out ; he is all in a heap, and his head hangs a little for- 
ward and (idling. 

Delilah's right arm is about his neck, and her upper parts bend a little over to the 
left, when, looking another way, she with her left iiand pushes from her an old wo- 
man, who steps back, having both her hands joined under her chin, and a key in one 
of them, and with her mouth shut smiles ^t Delilah. Delilah's eyes are fixed on a 
young man standing near her, who gently lifting up Samsons hair is cutting it off 
with a pair of scissors ; the young man is on Samsons right side, stooping over him 
with his arms extended, and legs close, aud his garment between them, that it may 
not touch the sleeping Samson; near him stands a boy with a basket to hold tlie cut 
locks ; he looks back at a Vhilistine, who is coming tow ards them with a rope in his 
hand ; he pouts with his mouth, aud has a finger thereon, in order to make the other 
keep back a little. The aforesaid Philistine walks stooping, advancing his right leg, 
and supporting his body with the otlier, which is quite bent; he thrusts out his head, 
and his elbow is drawn in, holding the rope with both hands close to his body. 
Another on the right side behind him is lifting up a curtain and looking after him. 
Between these two rises a large column, and another on the other side of the latter, 
whereon the aforesaid curtain hangs ; these curtains and their pedestals run towards 
the point of sight. Behind the last Philistine stand three or four more. On the left 
side, behind the old woman, appears part of the couch, supported by a lion's paw ; 
the top of the couch has an ornament of foliage, from whence projects a woman's 
head with breasts of yellowish ivory, representing a harpy, and a spread wing sup- 
ports a gilt moulding. From the top of the couch hangs a light reflecting drapery, 
with tassels down to the ground. Forward, in the corner, appears a large pillar, or 
a piece of walling against w hich stands a hexagonial leafed table, supported by three 
mermaids, back to back, on a triangular foot of black stone. On the table are se- 
veral bags of money. From behind the table, a young servant-like man is gently ad- 
vancing with more bags of money in his arms, looking back suddenly with knit eye- 
brows over his right shoulder at the couch : at his heels is another bearer with a 
copper vessel full of money, which he lugs very heavily before him; his upper parts 
falUng back, and he screwing his mouth, puffing and blowing ; he is well set, of a se- 
date countenance, and his hair and beard are frizzled. Beside the couch, below the 



Of Archhccliire. .5() 

steps, in tlio sliado, is scon tlio .statue oi' \ cmts un :i pedestal, inystcriouKly represetit- 
iiv^ Axturolh. Next it .stands a coiiiiiiaiuler of the Philistines with aslaH'iii liisliand; 
he somewhat thrusts out his head, and, if I mistake not, there are more people hehirul 
him lost in the shade. On (he ri^ht side of the steps, close to the foremost coliinin 
stands a censor, the smoke wiiereof ascends up the coimnii. The apartment is iiunj^ 
round with dark tapestries of lar)dscape, and between them are Itroad pilasters. 
The floor forward is inlaid with banded compartments. 

Delilah is wantonly dres.sed, having a nice head attire mixed wiili ribi)onK and 
pearls. A lonj^ hair-lock of a brown shiniiij:; colour comes over her bosom, her f^ar- 
luent of white satin hanging- .so carlessly down her bosom, as to shew her bare brea.sts 
and left shoulder ; the fore-part of the right leg is also naked from below the knee ; 
the thigh is fore-shortened, and the sandals white ; her left leg covered by the dra- 
pery afore-mentioned hangs down by the couch as if she was standing on it, with the 
foot behind the foot-stool : from her right shoulder hangs sloping, a beautiful sea- 
green veil tied on the left side, the flaps whereof are partly on the bed, on one side, 
and down her thigh on the other. 

Samson is of a large size, and robustly mcmbered, of a swarthy hue, with black 
hair and beard, and hairy breast: his drapery is dark purple, which, fastened with 
a girdle about his body, buckled on his side and gathered about the waist, comes 
down between his legs, covering the right thigh, the flaps of it finely folded, lying 
sideways on the carpet. The old woman's head is bound wiih a yellowish cloth, 
and her garment violet or blue, with straight sleeves tied under her breast and over 
her hips. The young man with the scissors is in a short green-sleeved coat. The 
boy next him, the same but somewhat more ordinary : the hair of each is light, and 
tied behind with a white ribbon. The soldier with the rope in his hand is swarthy, 
and dressed in a light yellow coat reaching to his knees, with dark and dull iron or 
copper straps three fingers broad, about the waist, over the navel, and the same on 
the shoulders 4 his helmet is plain and of copper, has a dagger by his side, and dark 
buskins and sandals, with strings to the calves of the legs. The person behind him 
has also a helmet, in the form of a dragon's head ; his body is covered with a beasts 
skin, and he has a truncheon in his hand. He, who on the left side carries the cop- 
per vessel with money before him, has a light grey cloth rolled about his middle, 
and coming down half way the thighs. The table is covered with fine red stuff, 
hanging down on each side. The floor carpet is dark, and variegated like Turkdj 
work, 

The light of the piece proceeds from the left a little fronting, as if from a single 
window, whereby the middle group and steps receive the broadest light. The sol- 
diei", with the rope before the steps, is more lighted on a side. The statue, standing 

1 2 



60 Of Architcciure. 

in the shade receives a reflexoil light from tlie floor. The commander of the P/ii- 
listincs takes a litth^ light on liis shoulders. The jouiig man laden with the l)ags of 
money, is, with the tables next to him, in shade, hut the other bearer receives the 
light directly on his raised naked breast. 

Second Table, or Victure. 
After Samsons hair was cut oft" and he tied hand and foot, he awakes, and find- 
ing himself thus wretchedly trapped by Delilah, arises full of wrath, striking and 
pushing- all away from him as well as he is able, but is at last overpowered and 
seized. 

Here, in his fury, he stands in the middle of the piece, turned with his left to the 
light, and striding, Jiis left elbow rises, with the hand and arm down behind his 
head ; his right hand comes forward, with the elbow pulled back by a rope, by one 
of the Vhilistines; his right leg advances, and the left falls quite back, yielding to 
the weight of his heavy body, which bends backwards. Two persons lie at his feet, 
either knocked or kicked down, and the third lies on the right side against a balus- 
trade with one liand on the floor, and catching hold of the pedestal, with the other ; 
his head drooping, he spits abundance of blood. On the left side of Suinson, a little 
forward, stands the commander of the Vhilistines, punching him in the I)reast with 
his left list, and with the riglit, wherein he holds a start' on high, threatening to beat 
him. Behind the comnu^nder stands a soldier, who having flung a rope about Sam- 
sons neck, pulls forward the Nuzarean hero's almost mastered head, whose mouth 
is close, and cheeks are swelling. Behind Samson, another stooping soldier is pul- 
ling a rope fastened to his right foot The aforesaid balustrade on the right side 
backwards, runs towards the point of sight, and the door is in the middle of it, 
through which rush in three or four men, shouting and armed with truncheons, staves, 
and other weapons ; t)f w hom the foremost, with a stafl" or half pike, seems to strike 
with all his might at the reeling Samson. Their fury is very great on this occasion. 

A little to the left behind Samson, and close to the couch, Delilah is seen embrac- 
ing the statue of Venus, and looking back with astonishment; she is somewhat high 
on the steps, which run across the piece. Just beyond her, the old woman is either 
flung down or falling, and with one leg a little up shews her naked limbs, by reason 
of her garment somewhat turned up ; she has one hand on the floor, and the other 
coming forwards. In the corner forwards hangs a part of a large curtain, which 
covers part of the tal)le whereon lies the money. The two youths, mentioned in the 
former, come running in a fright, endeavouring to hide themselves between the table 
and wall ; the one is already half behind it, and the other is looking back, with his 
head between his hands. 



Of Architecture. 61 

Samsoiis {\vn\w\'y lio& half on the steps, and tho residue is under his feet, tof^ether 
with some weapons, as, half pikes and liead-pieces of the slain. The foniinander 
of the Vhitistiiies has a vestment reachin}^ below the knees, and a loose <lrapery 
about his arm ; about his head is a lif^iit gr«'y Idld, fastened behind with a {^old ril*- 
boii. The main light takes Sumson and tlie parts ai)Out him. iJeliln/i is in a reflect- 
ing light and dee[) in the piece. 

Those two pictures were not inferior to the two former in passions : the composi- 
tion, light, and colouring, surprised me, and induced me to think I saw the very action 
and lift! itself. I was persuaded, that if I knew not that it was Sinnson an«l Delilah 
1 must have guessed it by their makes, faces, and motions. And, what was most 
wonderful, the fact and drift could not only be naturally seen, but also its cause, 
and what the issue would be, whether good or bad. In the first piece, I could ea.sily 
perceive that Sdvisonwni^ to be betrayed ; and, if I did not know it, the circumstance 
of his hair cut olf, money told, and ropes at hand, would make me surmise it. Yet 
this could not be done w ithout bloodshed, as in the second piece, where he is seized 
and roped like an ox for the sacrifice, who, if the first blow fail, rouses, pushes 
down, and tramples under foot all that he meets with, till at length tired, he is mas- 
tered, and tlius led back to the altar again. Just so it appeared to me. 

Truly, we see few such pieces so efficaciously expressed ; every thing, as, the 
apartment, by-works, and incidents were so proper, so needful to explain the matter, 
that the omission of any of them would have made the composition imperfect. 
What an efiect has the statue of \envs in pointing out the lasciviousness of this 
heathenish woman ? does not the vicious old woman, with the key in her hand, 
plainly shew that she is in her own house, not in that of Samson, or the commander 
of the Vhilistines ? Or of what use w ould the money on the table Ije, if we saw not 
by the bearer, that it was not Samsons f for, he is asleep, and the money now 
brought in : but if on such an occasion, the running of the bearers, and the noise of 
the money be thought improper, as discovering the plot ; I say there is no impro- 
priety in it, since it is possible to run bare-footed over a marble floor without any 
noise, and to set down bags of money without rattling. All here is hush, no body 
speaks, for every one knows his business. 

In the second piece, Delilah makes to the statue for protection. Why does she 
flee, and why in such fear, after Samson is bereft of his strength ? yet, she cannot be 
easy, she is tossed between hope and fear, and her anxiety makes her catch hold of 
any thing she meets with ; and as long as Savison is present, she retains her trouble. 
The commander's passionate motion is, I think, very proper ; for though he be dis- 
charguig the duty of a servant, it is easy to imagine, that, seeing the dead bodies lie 
about him, he would not have exposed himself to the danger of approaching Samson, 



62 Of Architecture. 

had he not been securely tied. Now rushing from his lurking place, he falls boldly 
on Samson, possibly not so much to shew his own valour, as to spirit tlie others ; for 
he looks not at Sat7ison, but at the soldiers. The old woman's lying tumbled do\vn 
is not improper, as being feeble-legged, and full of fear ; and, altliough she have no 
share in the action, yet it is not repugnant to tiie story, if only for Delilah's sake ; 
and for the same reason sin; is thrown into siiade. 

Let us now' consider both the pictures, but chiefly the signification of Samson's 
hair, and the love of Delilah. 

We read briefly in Scripture many things touching the hair of Samson, of "which 
he was very careful ; because, whilst it grew, it became longer and thicker, whereby 
he gained greater strength for breaking the ropes with which he was at any time 
bound ; but, being cut off, his strength forsook him, and his whole body was subject 
to weakness. 

By the person of Samso7i, the Nazarcan, we understand, a man chosen by Heaven, 
and devoted to its service ; for the men of that order took, as I have said, especial 
care of their hair ; which gave them virtue, adorning the head, or the understanding, 
which, the more it increases, the more courageous we become against assaults of our 
enemies. By enemies endeavouring to bind us, we uiulerstaiul, human inclinations. 
When MOW, through frailty, we are seduced by this Delilah, those corrupt affections, 
whereby sleep overpowers us, and we slumber in her lap, reason becomes useless, 
and we cease to do good. Thus we are shorn by the wiles of temptation ; that is, 
by means of voluptuousnes we are deaf to the impulses of the Holy Spirit, and then 
of course lie open to our enemies, both to scorn and crush us ; for worldly affairs are 
so affecting, that they have no sooner got the mastery, but we find ourselves crossed, 
either by covetousness, love, hatred, jealousy, or other disquiet : but returning to 
ourselves, or awaking, we become sensible of our folly, and, through contrition, gra- 
dually recover our hair, and thereby our strength ; and then, dying to sin, we at 
once overcome both ourselves and our enemies. 

The hair cut off", also implies, the weakness of the faculties of the soul or spirit, 
or even death itself. 

Euripides tesUfiCfi, that Alces/iw could not die before Mc/CM/'y came from heaven to 
cut oft'his hair. Min?is likewise could not overcome king Nisus, unless his fatal hair 
were cut off' by his daughter. And Dido, nays Yirgil, could not die before Juno, 
who pitied her long agony and lingering death, sent Iris to release the soul from cor- 
poreal ties, by cutting off" her white hair, and offering it to Vluto. 

These two last historical pictures differed from the two preceding in this, that they 
were not mixed with poetic figures, as Cupid, or lo^e; M.ag<sra, or rage, and 
)»uch like, to help the expression of the passions, or meanings ; since it is certain, 



Of Architecture. 63 

Ihat reiil truth could not he discfnud froiu ficfiori by a mixture of both. And 
althoui^li i\\v. statue of \emis, in this matter of fact, seem to be of tbat nature, yet it 
is nothing to the mean point, but serves only to sliew that the place was heathenish, 
and where j)robably such figures wore common among that people. 



CHAP. X. 

OF Tin: PICTUKKS IN THE SECOND STORY, EL'ILT AFTER TIIF 

DORIC ORDER. 

After viewing tliis apartment, which I could not enough admire, I ascended the 
second story into another of more elegant architecture, after the Doric order. This 
room was not so long, but a little higher than the former, and I met there with the 
following pictures. 

The valiant Hercules, after having performed many wonderful exploits, not able 
longer to resist the indignation of Juno, his step-mother, through smarting rage 
burned himself, occasioned by the poisoned shirt of Nessiis, which Dcianira had 
sent him, out of jealousy, that he loved lole, daughter of Euritus, king of Oecalia. 
Jupiter, much concerned at this, carried him to heaven in a triumphant chariot, and 
placed him among the stars, in the number of the gods. 

The prospect was wild, woody, and mountainous. In the middle of the piece, 
a little to the right near (lie point of sight, was seen a large pile of rough wood lying 
cross-ways, not as chopped, but rent asunder, having roots and branches. The 
upper wood was small, and the under very large, lying parallel with the piece. 
Here the unhappy hero, the scourge of monsters, was lying extended over his lions 
skin, with his head to therighl, and feet to the lift side turned somewhat backward, 
and his breast leaning over. His face a little rising, and bending forwards, was 
seen in profile from the right side, discovering resignation, unattended with paiu. 
His Itft arm was quite raised, with the hand behind, under his head, the other arm 
lay out a little forward on the wood, with the hand half shut, and the inside towards 
the body. His right knee was wholly drawn up, with the foot inclining towards it: 
the other leg was represented hanging ofl' as if he would rise huuself somewhat 
higher. Fhilocteles, before the wood a little to the right, kneeling on his left knee, 
supported his bent body on his elbow and right knee. He looked downwards, 
holding before his face a part of his garment, as if he were weeping, and witli a torch 
in his left hand setting lire to the wood. In the middle of the piece, behind the pile, 
on the second ground, was seen a triumphal chariot, finely adorned with carving 



64 Of Architecture. 

and gilding, and children with garlands of palm ; the foremost wheel like a star ap- 
peared sideways, half behind the ground, and the horses turning to the right, almost 
fronting, got somewhat higher. Mercury was seen entirie to his left foot, which was 
liidden behind the ground, on which foot, leaning back, he supported himself. He 
advanced with his right leg forwards the burning pile, with his right hand behind 
him. wherewith he drew in the rein, as if he were going to stop, looking back, he was 
accosting Jupiter, riding on the air, and pointed at Hercules with his left hand quite 
open, and a little fore-shortened. Jupiter's upper parts came forward with his legs 
fore-shortened towards Mercury, pointing upwards with his right hand, and sceptre, 
cross his body, and in his left holding the thunder against his thigh. Behind the 
chariot, above Hercules, to the right side, the ground rose-up hilly. Behind the 
horses were seen high pine trees and cypresses, and some broken stems, and behind 
Mercury were others somewhat lower and further. On the left side, up to the ho- 
rizon, aj)pcared the sea, and not far in it a rock almost in the form of an affrighted 
man, which I judge to be the unhappy servant Lychas, who was flung into the sea 
by his master's fury. On the before-mentioned rocky hill stood a smoking altar, 
and ue.\t it a burnhig fire-pan and the club of Hercules. In the pannel of the altar 
was carved an eagle with oj)cn wings, and the thunder in its bill, sitting on a festoon 
of oak leaves. In the front of the piece, on the left side, lay a very large body of an 
old tree tore up by the roots ; and the hole in the ground, thereby made, was still 
apparent ; the roots abounded with fibres, and the other end came forwards to the 
middle of the piece, where it went into the frame. Here and there lay some 
May branches, and stones thrown off their basis. On the ground, by V hiloctetes, 
lay Hcrcules's ivory bow and quiver, adorned with gold, and of a size bigger 
than ordinary ; the strap being enriched with gold buckles. On this quiver was a 
small inlaid or chased figure representing Atrapos, the last of the fatal sisters, with 
her scissors. 

This j)iece was strongly lighted from the right side, a little fronting. The hill and 
altar, and hind part of the chariot, were mostly in the shade of the trees'. The fore 
parts of the horses, and the upper parts of Mercury, half way his thigh, were in the 
light ; and the rest downwards, with part of the ground, was in shade. Jupiter-, 
placed very high, almost to the frame, received the light behind his head, shoulder, 
and arm, and the rest of his body was in shade against the light sky. The trees 
behind the horses were rather dark. 

Vhiloctetes, son oiVaan, was arrayed in a satin coat of armour, of bright straw 
colour. The straj)s were gold embroidery on a greenish blue ground. His upper- 
garment hanging behind him, and tucked up about the middle in the girdle, between 
it and the hilt of his sword, were crimson, also embroidered with gold :, as were like- 



Of Avchilcclurc. C)5 

•wise Iiis Ijuskins; liis hair was fair and siiort-curlecl ; lie liud a little Ijeard ; his 
helmet and hall-piko layby him; tiie helmet was seen a little inwardly, and elf- 
gaiitly wrought with gold and silver; a large white feather hung from it carelessly 
on the ground. 

The naked body, on the pile of wood, appeared very beautiful; the breast, some- 
what heaving, received a strong light; the muscling of the stomach and ribs was 
well expressed, but on the arms and legs faintly ; the toes of the right foot, wliifli 
had yet some motion, shrunk inwardly ; his eyes were dying, and the balls drawn 
towards the corners ; the mouth, somewhat open, seemed cither to send forth sighs, 
or f(;tch breath, or utter, for the last time, some moving words, which raised the ut- 
most sorrow in Pliiloctclcs, and melted him into tears, as 1 thought, "^lercurij was 
almost nuked, having only a small green silk scarf about hiuj, a\ herein stuck his 
Cauduceus. The horses were winged, and the head of one appeared, but that of the 
other was behind Mercury. 

This piece was particularly remarkable for the death of the hero, and did not 
ill agree with what wc have before in this work observed, touching the condition of 
a man in a very hot summer. Questionless, the poison not only worked his body 
outwardly, but inflamed and consumed his very entrails. For this reason I also 
thought he must die: his breath was misty, and his mouth gaped after coolness ; his 
eye-lids, stifl' and heavy through inward heat, he could hardly keep open ; his sight 
smothered by the steam, and its motion retarded by the slackness of the optical 
nerves, drew towards the utmost corners. The sweat broke out, and he shined 
with wetness, chiefly about the breast, over which waved a thin damp, like the 
fumes of boiling water ; which made his outline unite with the ground : in this part 
it was that the unhappy hero had the most feeling; and, where the blood, leaving 
the members and seeking for shelter, was retiring to the heart, his breast was 
swelled, and, as he fetched breath, heaved and set; his belly was fallen in, and the 
ribs were prominent; his upper parts to the navel were of a warm and fiery colour, 
yet fresh and beautiful, as was also his face ; his lips were not as yet dead nor pale, 
but his hands and feet almost burned black ; his eye-brows appeared drawn some- 
what upwards, as one who, though sleepy, strives to keep awake ; the arms and 
legs were bare, pale, and shrunk, as partaking of death ; but the fingers, knuckles, 
knees and toes, were violet, heightened with yellow ; about the ribs and belly were 
seen some red and violet spots of the poison ; and his linen, shoved underneath at 
the navel, hung in rags, the major part whereof was under his body and thigh, and 
partly stained Avith blood. Thus the illustrious hero, a thunder to the wicked, lay 
in agony. Jupiter, very much moved, cast his eyes downwards sideways on the pi- 
tiful body, and spake to Mercury, who looked up at the celestial ruler with con- 

VOL. II. K 



66 Of Anhilechire. 

corn, as if lie were saying, " Look, father ! he is expiring. " No people were seen 
thereabouts, except those before mentioned ; nor any satyrs or wood-gods. It is 
certain, that if any had been there, Hercules frightened them away in his rage. The 
sorrow of Philoctetes was, in my opinion, inexpressible ; and the artist, therefore, 
with reason, had covered his face. But why Pa>an s son should be with Hercules 
w itliout servants I could not apprehend ; but fancied it was because the painter 
thought it unnecessary, this bosom friend alone sufficiently explaining the matter : 
a second reason might be, because the poet mentions nothing of it ; and lastly, be- 
cause the matter clears itself so well, that any addition would alter it, and, instead of 
aa unexpected act, make it rather appear as a premeditated funeral solemnity: 
Whence, we may infer, that the pile was not prepared for him, but that he himself 
made it on a sudden, as the poet relates. 

This artful piece was remarkable for these three things naturally and plainly ex- 
pressed ; to wit, the fact itself; what preceded, and what followed. The beginning 
of the tragedy was, when, having received the poisoned shirt of Nessus by Lychas, 
he offered it up at the altar to Jupiter his father. The sequel of his rage appeared 
by that unhappy wretch's being cast into the sea, and metamorphosed into a rock ; 
after which he burned himself; and his succeeding triumph was shewn by the cha- 
riot which Jupiter sends him for his deification. Menasciter exfunere Plicenix. 

The conclusions to be made from the persons of Nessus, Dejanira, and Lychas, 
may be these. 

We learn from the Centaur how dangerous the gifts of enemies are ; the cause 
of the great hero's death. In Dejanira we discover her imprudent and indiscreet 
passion, and the effects of her jealousy, Avhich made her the instrument of her 
husband's death ; and in Lychas we observe the miserable reward of his services, 
and that the misfortunes of servants are sometimes by the great construed as to 
render obedience and disobedience equally culpable. 

Over the door, opposite to the former piece, was seen another in an octagon, equal 
to the width of the door ; which I took at first to be a gap in the wall, because it 
was a little darkish ; but, approaching, I found it thus. 

Second 'Picture. 

Amphitryon, being with Alcmena m her bed-chamber, had, before he went to bed, 
laid the two children, Tphiclus and Hercules, in his shield, under a pavilion; into 
which Jjino, full of spite and rage, cast two serpents, in order to devour the two 
innocents, especially Hercules ; who squeezed them to death, and flung them at Am- 
phitryo7is feet. 

Forwards, on the left side, one step high, were seen the two children lying in the 



Of Archittcture. (Tf 

sliicld, (Mic((iiii)as.sed with a b:iluHtia(Je rniitiiiig from tlio fore pai't of llif pion- 
towards tlic j)oiiit of sij^Iit, aiid wliicli took up two tiiirds of llic- pi».c.e; Amphilnjon, 
at tlu; children's cry, h-apinij out of bed with an undraMii sword in his hatid, canu; 
to see what was the matter ; and, havinc; one foot on the step, he met with the youufj 
Hercules, looking at him with a smile, and grasping, with hoth hands, one of the 
serpents, which he squeezed to death ; the other lying already at his i*'A:i. Amazr-d 
at this, A»iphitri/on started hack ; the other child, bawling out, hiy, half tumbled 
out of the shield, with the pillow and part of the clothes on the floor. Behind 
IlercuU's, andbeyond the shield, hung the Thchdu prince's j)ur])Ie mantle over t^o 
half pikes, which stuck up slanting from the wall, and were tied together. Over 
them, a little backward, the disappointed Juno was seen mounting upwards, encom- 
passed with a dark cloud, with her sceptre by her side, in her left hand, and, with 
the other lifted up, seeming to threaten with her fist, and looked down frowning at 
the children. Somewhat further, beyond the balustrade, in the middle of the piece, 
rose four or five steps, fenced in by a hand-rail, reaching quite across the piece. 
Behind them, at the further end, in the middle of the piece, was a large and deep 
compass-niche or alcove, having a curtain drawn up and flistcned, on each side, 
Avith two rings; herein stood the bed. The apartment was eight feet high, and hun"- 
with tapestries; and over them, as far as I could perceive, the wall was divided 
into paimels, wherein were some faint bass-reliefs, representing warlike acts. On 
the left side of the alcove, in the corner, was a round pedestal or half-colour, where- 
on stood a burning lamp. Alcmena, much concerned, stood somewhat stooping on 
the steps, looking earnestly about, with a small torch in her hand, which she held 
up high; resting the other on the pedestal of the hand-rail, and holding a part of 
her white garment, which buttoned under her chin, and trailed behind • her hair 
■was tied up in a white cloth. The back-ground objects were seen, by the torch, 
in a dim light, except the corner wherein the lamp stood ; which, with the door, 
adorned with fine foliage, shewed somewhat stronger. From Juno proceeded some 
light rays, darting on the children and thereabouts. This light was not like that of 
a candle, but of the day or thunder : it mostly fell on the upper parts of the child 
in the shield ; his upper parts and head, with somewhat of the pillow, tumbled 
out, were in the shade ; he turned in the shield his upper parts one way, and his 
under ones another, which were fore-shortened. Amphilryons upper parts, al- 
most to the middle, were in the shade of the clouds, receiving strong reflectious 
from the children and the floor. 1 stood pondering, how Alcmena came by the 
lighted torch; but, on a narrow inspection, found a large gold candlestick standing 
near her, by the other pedestal ; and I wondered w hy Alceus's son had not takeu 
it, yet, on further consideration, concluded, that through hurry and fear, he over- 

K 2 



6s Of Archilfctnre. 

looked it, as usual on such occasions ; which Alcmena perceiving, she prcbably 
jumped out of bed and siezed it. Such was this picture. These three lights w<?re 
finely and distinctly observed : the lamp, which Mas distant, gave a white or pale 
light, but somewhat foggy. The flame of the torch was, almost to the wick, co- 
vered by the clouds under /?wo; which, as far as I could apprehend, was an artful 
slight of the master, in order to render the foremost liglit the brighter and stronger, 
and to avoid the necessity of making the whole piece dark ; which otherwise he 
nmst have done for tlie sake of jirobability. 

Jtmo had a diadem, and a light blue garment ; her head-attire was wild, and her 
locks flying about like serpents. 

The poets mention, that Hercules was represented by the ancients as an example 
of all virtues, as well of the body as the soul; squeezing serpents to death with 
his hands, even in his cradle; by which they give us to understand, that a man 
fitted for heroism, ought, from his infancy, to shun pleasures, and mortify carnal 
afleclions. 

Now, thinking to go out of the apartments, to see what was furthur remarkable, 
I, looking up higher, perceived another 'picture against the covered ceiling, like a 
cupola; wherefore, stopping to see it, and examine whether it had any relation to 
the pieces before-mentioned, I found it to be the deification of the aforesaid gfeat 
hero, welcomed by Jupiter, and the whole train of gods and goddesses. 

Jujntcr sat in the middle, high on his eagle. Hercules, crowned with laurels, 
was seen below, directly under him, standing, with one hand by his side, and 
having an olive branch in the other; he stood fronting down to half-way the thighs, 
in the fore part of the chariot, which was on clouds ; the pole of it rose up a little 
to the right side, according to the course of the horses, which Mercury was guiding 
to the leftside upwards, swaying again to the middle, and with the chariot making 
a semicircle ; so that the winged horses were seen mostly from underneath ; their 
breasts fronting, and heads towards the right. Mercury held the reins in with his right 
hand, close to his mouth. The chariot was surrounded with many Cupids, having 
garlands and branches. Mercury looked towards the right at Jupiter, who, with 
his sceptre directed him to a circle of twelve glittering stars in the firmament, which 
enlightened some small clouds in that quarter. The whole celestial body sat on 
waving clouds, exulting and clapping their hands. The sun shone bright. 

I was surprised that none had their badge of distinction, except Jupiter, riding on 
his eagle, and holding the thunder, and Mercury with his Caduceus in his hand, and 
wings on his feet : but, on consideration that the gods are well known to each other, 
1 directed my eye to Hercules, and observed, that he was without his club and lion's 
skin, which induced me to think, they were burned with his body; nevertheless, 



Of Archil eel lire. 69 

his frizzled liair ami beard, and fine mien, eonviiieed me, lliat it eould b«; iiobo<Iy 
but Hercules. In fine, I examined all the gods and goddesses, one after another, and 
l)Ogau to know them ail, lo the very least: Apollo, by his radiant air and beautiful 
body; Dirma, by her black hair and brown complexion; Uacc/tus, \>y his jolly, 
cheeks and members : (Esculajnus, by his long tressed hair and beard ; Ve^iux, by 
her plumpness and amorons look ; Momus, by his foolish countenance; and }«o forth. 
Each had his proper colours: Venus' s garment was red, Ditina\s, blue, Bacchus s 
purple, Cercs's straw-colour, Momus's green and yellow, &:c. which so distingui.shed 
them as to leave no room for doubt. But Juno and Iris appeared not in their com'- 
pany ; because, 1 suppose, the former could not bear the affront of seeing Hercules 
thus honoured. I e.xamined further into the ornaments of the apartment, and per- 
ceived they were so orderly and well adapted to the subject as to raise wonder. Oa 
both sides of the room ranged eight columns of Pisan marble, cross-cut into bands 
rather wide from one another; on each side of the door and in each corner one, and 
l)etween these two others standing close together, with their architrave, frieze, and 
cornice, and thereon a parapet with i):mnels, from which .s|)rung the coving of the 
ceiUng, in the middle whereof was this last mentioned piece in an oval compartment 
of oak-leaves and acorns. The metopes in the frieze were adorned with foliage of 
the same sort of leaves ; and in the pannels of the parapet were festoons, with a 
crown of laurel hanging at them. Between the two first and last columns appeared 
other festoons in oblong pannels, and under each a club and lion's skin: those fes- 
toons were composed of palm branches, with their fruit. On both sides of the door, 
between it and the first column, stood a palm-tree, whose branches reached up to the 
coving, projecting very elegantly over the before-mentioned picture. Those palm- 
trees, with the friezal ornaments, were bronzed ; the architrave and cornice, of serpen- 
tine stone, and the frieze, like the columns, Pisan marble. On each side of the door, 
between the two columns, was a large bass-relief of plain light and yellow marble. 
The one represented Hercules asleep, surrounded by the troop of pigmies : the other 
shewed his awaking, and hiding them in his lion s skin. From this first proof of his 
valour he afterwards got the name of * Hercules Primogenitus. On the other side 
of the apartment, opposite to this last, Hercules was seen spinning by Omphale; and, 
in the other pannel on that side, his shooting Nessus. Round the ceiling-piece were 
twelve small circular pannels, joined together with wreaths of palm-leaves ; these ex- 
hibited, in faint bass-relief of fret-work, the labours of Hercules. Between thera and 
the piece appeared some lions heads. 



* Hyginus, cap. 30. 



70 Of Architecture. 

Before we proceed in our relation, let us sluw \vl)at the heathens understood by 
tlie deification of Hercules. 

Hercules, the glory of valiant men, shews us, by his deification, that those who at- 
tempt that honour in tiicir life-times, as Anthony with his Cleopatra did, or strive to 
obtain it by intreating and cajoling the people, as most of the Persian kings and 
Romulus did, mistake the right method; whereas Herctdess whole life was taken up 
in freeing the world from monsters and tyi'ants ; and no divine honours were paid 
him until after his death ; for eternity, which he obtained only by death, teaches, 
that true virtue will not be llattered in this life ; as Alexander proved to those who 
were beforehand for calling him a god, by shewing them the blood which issued from 
his wounds, in the same manner as from other mortals. How powerful and virtuous 
soever a man may be, as long as he draws breath he cainiot call himself happy, as being- 
no more exempted from the teeth of biting envy, than Hercules was in his life-time. 
The heathens worshipped liim as a god, according to their superstition ; believing 
also, that though ail souls are immortal, yet those of valiant men, pursuing virtue, 
attain a higher ))itch of honour, and partake of the Deity : they even assign him, in 
heaven, Hebe, tlie goddess of youth, for a consort, on account of his strength, which 
is found only in youth. 

Thus, in after-times, the philosoplier and poet Empedocles, (vainly, in imitation of 
Jlcrculcs, who made his friend Philoctetes swear never to reveal the place where he 
burnt himself, nor what was become of him, in order to induce the people to think 
he Mas taken up into heaven) threw himself into mount JElna: but his iron slippers 
lieing cast out with the fiery stones, discovered the case and the truth. But, to re- 
turn to our relation. 

In going out of the apartment, I saw on the pavement a sphcera mundi, or terrestial 
globe, curiously inlaid, divided on each side with compartments, and cut with ele- 
gant bands of costly marble and jasper, which ran to the centre : each stone shewed 
a monster running oft' from the globe, and such as Hercules, in his life-time, had de- 
livered the world from. 

I could not satisfy myself with the sight of this work. But having at last seen all 
things here, I, by a side pair of stairs, landed on a passage leading to another apart- 
ment, of the lotiic order, nothing inferior to the before-mentioned in rich ornaments 
and marble. 



Of Architecture. 71 



CHAP. Xl. 

or THI", nCTUKKS IN" THE THIRD STOKV, I'.I ll/l A 11 l. K Tlli: 

IONIC OKDEK. 

XN ancient times, as Scrimamis vviis combing and bindin;^ u\> licr liiiir, news was 
brought to her of the revolt of the Jiahi/lonians ; whereupon, witii one of the tresses 
han<;in;>- untied, she immediately marched at^ainst the rebels; and bound not her 
hair until she had regained the town, and n.-duced (he people to their obedience. 

This courageous prin(;ess arose from her chair, half coifed, swearing with her right 
thund> held up, and with her left haiul pulling her side-locks towanls her, which a 
waiting woman next her, on the right, had in her hand, and wherein the comb was as 
yet sticking On the table by her, which was <:overed with a costly carpet of thick 
gold embroidery, stood a large oval looking-glass, in a gold frame chased with foliage, 
and on the top were two billing pigeons of unpolished silver. On the table lay also 
some precious ornaments, as bracelets, neck-laces, jewels, &c. and her diadem, in 
the shape of a pyramid, beset with stones. Behind her chair stood a young damsel, 
holding a gohl plate with some cups, pots, and little boxes of perfume. Behind this 
virgin appeared two others in surprise and mutual embrace. On the left side was an 
old matron, with her back fronting, holding an opened letter in her left hand. A 
little more towards the middle, another virgin was pulling away, from the table into 
the corner forwards, a little fountain elegantly wrought, and resting on four wheels. 
In the fore-part of the piece, on the right side, a messenger was kneeling before the 
queen quite dejected. At the further end of the apartment, in the middle, was a 
g"ate-like opening, and on each side of it a term, of white marble, whereon hung 
some warlike instruments. The room was hung w ith tapestry. The aforesaid gate 
shewed an entrance into another magnificent apartment adorned with bass-reliefs and 
other imagery : at the further end of it was seen a large shallow niche, and under it 
a broad pedestal or elegant set, on the side of which sat the figure of a woman, with 
the feet towards the light, holding in her lap a globe, whereon the right hand, with a 
sceptre in it, rested. Its head was adorned with a triple mural crown. Over it, in 
the niche, stood a bass-relief-like grave man, in a majestic dress, resting his right 
hand on a truncheon, and having a torch in his left. He was crowned with flowers, 
and about liis neck hung a goUl chaiu. This figure was golden, and the ground of 
the niche, azure blue. The columns were of white, and the building of Egt/ptian 
marble, and the ornaments gold. Behind the matron, at the end of the first apart- 
ment, a young .damsel, by the queen's order (which the matron signified to her) was 



72 Of Architecture. 

climbed up, reaching willi one hand as high as she could, to take down some arms 
off one of the terras ; which the matron, with the bent fore-finger of her right hand, 
beckoned to her, to bring forwards. Whereupon the damsel looking back as she 
was untying the weapons. 

The queen stood by the table, with her upper parts turned a little to the left ; her 
breast was half open, and put out ; her head, almost upright, inclining somewhat to- 
wards the left shoulder; her eyes staring; her mouth, a little open, as if she were 
speaking: she was dressed in white satin, over a dark blue bodice or cuirass, richly 
embroidered with gold, and beset with jjrecious stones ; the sleeves were very wide, 
but turned up, and fastened with a gold buckle or hook ; her gown, buttoned above 
the knee, and gathered up round about ; she was buskined half-way tlie legs : her 
robe, lying on the chair, was of Tyrian purple, embroidered with gold, and lined 
with ermine. The young damsel, who was busy in attiring the head of the princess, 
was dressed in violet. The virgin behind the chair, pushed somewhat by the queen s 
starting up, stepped back and overthrew a cup on the plate, which put her out of 
countenance : she was dressed in rose colour; and the two, behind her, in dark blue, 
a little greenish. The matron had a long cloth garment of dark fiUemot, gold-bor- 
dered ; her under garment, as well as I could perceive by the sleeve, was dark violet, 
and her head elegantly wound m ith fillets of many colours, the end whereof hung 
down her back. The virgin, who took down the weapons, had a pale apple-blos- 
som-coloured garment. The messenger was seen sideways, a little turning the back, 
in a small gold-fringed mantle, dark grey or blackish, hanging halfway down his 
back ; his under-coat was light grey, and reached below the knees ; his buskins were 
of beast's skin ; he had a dagger by his side, or stuck in his girdle, with a small staff 
in his hand ; his helmet, having a dragon's head, and two wings on top like those of 
a bat, lay by him ; his brown skin shone with sweat, as did his hair, which was not 
long, yet tied behind. 

The apartment received its light from the right side, through a large compass- 
headed window, M'hich fell strongly on the queen, and about her, a little forward, 
she caused a ground-shade on the corner of the table, by which the matron's under 
parts were well set off. The messenger was mostly in shade, as being more forward 
than the window The hangings, between the window and gateway, were half in 
shade, which set the princess and the attendance behind her strongly off. In one 
of those hangings (which were very old, and of a dark purple colour) was wrought, 
in costly needle-work, the flood and Noah's ark ; and, in the other, the confusion of 
Babel, and the marching off and division of the people ; and above, about the sweep 
of the gate, as round the edges of a medal, were Syriac characters or letters. On 
the right side, over the hangings, the apartment appeared lighter, by means of two 



Of Archilednrc. 71 

t-irciihir windows ruiiniiip,- towards tlic point of sif^lit. Tlif cfiliiifj was coverrfl. 
Tiic llonr inlaid with V.U'ji^t^ niarlilcs of varions colonrs. Altont (Im- tal)le, and on tli< 
foremost -^ronp, lay a lars^e white lonnd stone, which ji^enlly united with tin- otlu r 
lijj;lit; yet without attracting the eye. 

Forward, on the rij^ht side, behind the messenger, some steps went down to a 
door beloM'. Throni;!! the window a|)peare(l tlie distance, or part of a pahn-tree. 

1 forgot to say, that the weapons hanging on the terms consisted of rpiivers, Ijo\n~ 
and swords. In the basou of the golden fountain ran a spout of water, upon a cloili 
or two, and a spunge lying in it. 

Over against this piece, on the opposite wall, was the sequel of the preceding, in a 

Second Picture. 

Here Semiramis was seen setting out from her court, with an extraordinary nia- 
,iesty and courage. She descended the steps very airily. A martial fire .seemed to 
inflame her heart, ^hich gave a glow to her cheeks; her eyes sparkled like two 
stars. If she had not a helmet, I should, by her dress and accoutrements, have 
taken her for a I>ia?ia going a hunting. Every thing was in readiness for her march, 
even to her robe; which she refused to put on, contented only with a bow and 
arrows and her authority. The waiting woman ran up and down stairs, one bring- 
ing this, another that ; one of the cjiief put the royal helmet on her head ; a foot- 
stool was set for her, below on the stairs, whilst the other was girding the sword 
about her. The curvetting horse, inured to war, stood ready at the stair-foot. The 
trumpets sounded, and the people, full of desire, crowded about. The pas.^age was 
cleared. The horse, divided into troops, were drawn up in the inner court. The 
messenger ran down the further steps ; and the matron above, in the gateway, was 
gaping and staring at the preparations. The sky was clear, and seemed to favour 
the princess's enterprise. 

Having, through hurry, but transiently viewed these things, I could not possibly 
well remember every circumstance, so as to give a true description of that excellent 
piece ; wherefore, attentively placing myself before it, my observations were as fol- 
lows : 

On the left side was seen a magnificent portico, with four Ionic colunms support- 
ing their ornaments ; and on each side a balustrade and plinth, running dow n five 
or six steps, to a large pedestal, whereon lay lionesses, capped and covered, whose 
bodies were full of Si/riac characters. The gate was circular-headed ; and over it a 
key-stone which supported the cornice, and wherein was a bronzed lions head. 
Over each column, in the frieze, were some sorts of heads ; and between them, a 
faint carved quiver and lighted torch across. On each side, in the wings of the por- 

roL. II. L 



74 0/ Architecture. 

tico, was a niche, the bottoms whereof were oven with the fill of the door, and run- 
nitig towards the point of sight. At the, extremities of those wings were tw« other 
columns, staridiii"- against a wall, which ran on a low groimd to the middle of the 
piece. This wall was divided by flat fascias, in the nature of pilasters, and between 
them were circular openings, throuuh which was seen the inner-court, and above the 
wall, its side, running deep in the piece towards the point of sight. At the end of 
the wall was such another, parallel with the foremost, which bounded the inner-court; 
and, further behind, some palm and other trees rose above it. On the fore-ground, 
on the right side, the ground wa.s rugged up to the landing place of the steps, des- 
cending into the fore-court ; hi the middle of which stood a large fountain of white 
marble, resting on a basis of four or eight arches, which were su|)ported by scjuare 
smooth and high pillars, of the Doric or rustic order, divided by rusticated or rock- 
like blocks ; over this work arose, instead of an entablature, a large pHnth, three feet 
high, of white marble, like the figures. On the toj), in the middle, rising three or 
four steps, stood a large terestrial globe, supported by four sphinxes ; on which globe 
sat a woman, with her fore-parts towards the court, holding high, in the right hand. 
a sun, and downwards, in her left, a moon. On her helmet was an eagle with spread 
■wings, and on her breast-ornaments a lion's head. Her dress was like that of an 
heroine. On the lowest steps, next the plinth, sat the four parts of the world, 
fettered against some trophies. Below, between the pillars, were copper-bronzed 
basons, which received some spouts of water from within, out of a rock. This 
huge pile stood in the middle of the piece, against the point of sight, half behind 
the wall. The fore-court was rough ; and, at the furllier end had steps ascending, 
as aforesaid. 

Thus was the plan of this picture, and the disposition of all the fixed work ; I 
shall now, to the best of my skill, describe the rest. 

A little to the left of the point of sight the courageous queen was descending- 
the steps, with her left leg forwards, and her body bending somewhat back, poising 
the right leg on a step higher. She swayed her upper parts to the left, with the 
breast fronting; somewhat lifting up her left arm,, which was guarded with a small 
shield ; at the same time, a stooping virgin girt her scimitar. Her right hand, in. 
which she held a bow, with the arm downwards; and a quiver full of arrows ap- 
I>eared above her left shoulder: a crowned helmet, ornamented with a large white 
feather, was set on her head by another, and a third, with the royal robe, (which 
the princess thought needless in this march) was gohig up stairs again, with her 
eyes fixed on the queen: this virgin's right side was a little fronting; and she held: 
the robe high in her left hand, that it might not drag, and, with the right, kept the- 
rest close to her body ; her dark head-attire was strongly set ofi" against the white 



Of Archil erf lire. 7.'> 

fwY, or liiiins'- of llio rolio; and licr locks, tlironi^li luT swift motion, were flyiii;: 
buliiiul, ;iiul lujr gown folding; hctwcijii her legs: she was girt jiist under the breast, 
nnd had white sandals : the gown was open on the side, discovering the bare leg 
and half the thigh: her garment was rose-colour. The matron, near the gate-way, 
stood stooping forward, and wondering, ^vith her right han<I on the balustrade, 
and looking down. Next the Hrst step, before the (pieen, under the j)oint of sight, 
stood a stooi)ing damsel, setting a .small ivory foot-stool, covered with purple velvet, 
for the queen to mount her horse by ; she held it with her right hand, and with the 
other was tucking up her garment behind, seeming fcarfid of the horse. A little 
from thence came, from the right side of the piece, a young man, looking at the 
damsel, and holding, with his right hand, a fine horse by the bridle; he was seen 
from behind; his left leg advanced, and the right drew quite back, just touching 
the ground with his great toe ; his breast projected quite over his poise, as if he 
were still walking, striking the horse's belly with iiis left hand to make him turn 
about. Tlie horses breast was fronting, and his right side somewhat foreshortened ; 
his head in profile; the foremost leg prancing, and the right drawing in, as if he 
went backwards; his open nostrils were white, as were also the breast and legs ; 
the rest being dark or brown : the bridle and other things were gold beset with 
stones, having a rich caparison, set off with gold plates ; the housing was purple, 
richly eraljroidered with gold, powdered with pearls and other costlinesses, and 
almost trailing the ground, with fine tassels flying up at the horse's motion : the 
raane drest into tresses ; and the tail buttoned up. A tigers skin covered the 
breast. The young man had long light hair, tied behind ; his coat, girt in the 
middle, was light yellow reflecting green ; being strongly set off against the purple 
housing; his right shoulder, with half his back, was seen bare; and his carnation, 
beautiful and fresh ; his sandals were white. The horse gave a groimd-shade over 
the damsel with the footstool, and a little beyond her. Quite on the right side, 
somewhat further, stood two trumpeters, turned towards the inner court, girt with 
beasts skins, and sounding their trumpets almost like those of the Romans, winding 
like serpents, with dragons heads at the ends of them. On the further side of the 
queen, the messenger appeared ruiming down the steps, quite over his poise ; point- 
ing, with his right hand a little fore-shortened, forwards at the inner court, with 
his face towards the queen : by the little flying mantle behind him, might be per- 
ceived the swiftness of his motion ; his action, like that of a flying Mercury, being 
free and extensive: he flung out his left leg, and his right foot was quite behind, 
and ofl' the ground. The people, on the second ground, below stairs to the pedestal 
of the first balustrade, were seen between his legs : these people, as well men as 
women and children, stood, some wringing their hands, others lifting them up high ; 

L 2 



76 Of Architecture. 

some embracing, others clapping their hands; the former for fear, the hitter for 
joy ; among- the rest was seen a distressed woman, lianging her head side-ways, with 
her arms down, and hands folded : by her stood a grave man, talking to her almost 
mouth to mouth, with his right hand pointing up to heaven, and with his left giving 
her a friendly look, he pulled her by the sleeve, as if he would have her take heart. 
Some children were lying on, and crawling up the steps. In the fore-court some 
troops of horse were seen putting themselves into order, and others mounting their 
horses. On the further side of the place, other people were coming running down 
the steps. The distance behind them, on the right side, was hilly. Over the afore- 
said steps, at a distance, arose a large pyramid, and some i)alm-trees, appearing 
darkish against the clear sky. The fore-court was ligiit, and the inner court itself, 
on the left side, of white marble. The wall, on the further side of the steps, was, 
together with the people, and beyond the lionesses, shaded by a cloud ; which 
strongly set off the foremost groupe, whereon the main light fell. 

The trumpeters, on tiie same side, with a part of the balustrade on which they 
leaned, were in shade. Forwards, in the corner, was seen part of an open gate, 
and its side-wall running up high, just beyond the trumpeters ; who thereby were 
in the shade, receiving here and there, from the opening, a little light on their under 
parts and legs. The gate was low, because the ground run off sloping from the 
steps ; the ground, with the hind-part of the horse, being shaded by it. The horse 
and young man received small but very strong lights and shades. The trumpeter 
and gate were strongly reflected from the left side. The people on the second ground, 
against the balustrade, were mostly lighted from on high, by the blue of the sky, 
and could have no reflection, because they stood parallel along the stairs. Behind 
the wall, with round openings against the angle of the Mings of the portico, arose 
the top or leafing of a large palm-tree ; which broke the length of the said wall ; 
at the same time causing the extremities of the wings to unite agreeably with the 
inner court. The portico, fronting the light, was, with the balustrades, of Pisan 
and JEgyptian marble, with white ornaments. The lionesses on the pedestals 
were of serpentine. The upper steps were of white marble with eyes. The large 
and spacious landing, at the foot of the steps, was of free-stone ; and the ground, 
on the right side, somewhat russet, mixed with earth. 

The matron had, as in the former piece, a dark fillemot upper garment, over a 
violet one ; and her head was elegantly wound. The young virgins were also as 
before. She who girt the princess with the sword had an apple-blossom-coloured 
garment ; her coat being tucked up behind ; her head-attire was light against the 
dark greenish blue garment of her, who, standing one step higher in the shade, was 
putting on the queen's helmet. The young damsel below, shaded by the horse, 



Of Architecture. 77 

was likowiso (Irossed in blue. Tlie virgin, wiili (lie roynl ioIh-, stood close to the fore- 
most Italiisdiulc, almost up the stairs, beliind llie lioiiesscH, wliic li were strotif^ly 
set off against her light garment. I had almost forgot a soldi r standing in thegate 
near the trumpets, with a club plated with iron on his shoulder ; he had ali},dit grey 
linen coat reaching below his knees, with stockings on his legs, and on his head 
a copper helmet, achirued with two beasts hoftis ; about his neck was fastened a 
brownish red beasts skin, with the paws to it, and by his side- a dagger. This 
man was entirely in the light of the gate. 

After a thorough view of this picture, I began to consider wherein its goodness 
lay, which was wliat 1 chiefly wanted ; wherefore, taking my pocket-book, I set 
down in it the general heads in the following manner : — 

First, The disposition of the irregular objects against each other, whether high 
or low, standing or lying. 

Secondly, The disposition of the grounds behind each other. 

Thirdly, The ]>laciug of the lights. 

Fourthly, The motion of the moving objects. 

Fifthly, The proper by-works, climate, and customs. 

Sixthly, The conditions or characters of the persons, with the dresses and Syrian 
equipage. 

Seventhly, The particular postures and passions. 

Lastly, The harmony of the colours. 

Being much rejoiced and inflametl with new ardour for further inquiries, I saw 
opposite to the aforesaid two pictures, on each side of the door, the following 
bass-reliefs in white marble. 

In that on the right side Semiramis was standing on the fore-ground, and by her 
an architect, shewing her, on a board, the plan of a town-wall. On the leftside 
were workmen, busy in carvinig, hewing, cutting, and sawing stones : and, on the 
second ground, the said wall appeared faintly just above ground, and next it was 
the town. 

In the other piece the queen was seen on horseback, with a quiver behind her, 
and aiming at a lion, who, rearing up, approached her, with an arrow through his 
body. In the distance, the town-wall appeared as finished, and here and there some 
palm-trees. The figures were small life, and finely wrought. 

Between those bass-reliefs stood a square pedestal in a niche, and on it the statue 
of Semiramis, with a dead lion under her feet. She was dressed in the Assyrinii man- 
lier, n^ Via Amazon, with a bow in her hand, and a quiver behind her: and on her 
head a crowned helmet, on the top whereof lay a little dragon, whose ueck curled 
down the foie-part of it. The pedestal was porphyry, and the figure massy gold. 



78 Of Architect lire. 

The iiiclio, like the l)uiUling, was entirely serpentine, and the piUars and pilasters 
of Egt/ptian marble. 

Over the uiche was an oblonji' azure-blue table or fascia, and thereon a pile 
of burning wood, of white niaibh;, out of the smoke whereof ascended a pigeon. 

Over each colunm was a modillon of olive leaves, which supported the archi- 
trave, and in the frieze were some arms, not much rising. All these ornaments were 
of gold. 

In the middle of the arch-work arose a very large cupola, and therein was a 
celestial sphere, of blue chrystal, with the signs and circles of gold. The half of 
this wonderful machine took up the cupola, shewing itself in such a manner as if 
the sun shone on it, and enlightening the whole apartment ; for which reason, I 
did not before take notice, that the room had no windows. On each side of the 
sphere were two tables of iVet-work, and each had a figure. In one was representd 
Strength, like an heroine, holding an oaken branch, and having a griffin on the 
shield ; and in the other was also a heroine, signifying political government, leading 
a bridled lion with the left hand, and holding a stafl" in tiie right. By which figures 
and the sphere are understood the heavenly iujhiences, as philosophers intimate. 

The floor was, like that in the under apartment,' inlaid with a terrestrial globe, 
just under the cupola; where the light, falling directly upon it, made it rise, and 
look so relieved, that I was afraid to walk on it. 

Over the door, in a round co-partment of palm leaves, I saw carved, in white 
marble, an old sea-god, whom I judged to be father Ocean, leaning on a large sea- 
vase, shedding abundance of Avater, running cross through the piece ; out of which 
arose, in the middle, a large winged lion. On the other side of the sea-god appeared 
a small hill, and thereon a little palm-stem. This table was like a medal of one 
depth. The sense alluded to the fust rise of the Assyrian monarchy, represented 
by the winged lion, according to the prophet Daniel. 



CHAP. XII. 

OJt- THE PICTURES IN THE FOURTH STORY, BUILT AFTER 
THE ROMAN ORDER. 

> V HEN Uoratius had gained the victory over the three Curatii, and was going with 
his arms to the capitol, he was met by his sister, who, espying those of her bride- 
groom, called li r brother a murderer : at which enraged, he drew his sword, and 
sta)jbed her, thereby staining the victory with his own blood. The people judg- 



Of Avcliiteclitre. 79 

inj^ (liis to bo a rrnelty, voted, tijal lie Iiad tlicrcfore rendered liiinsolf unworthy of 
tlie victory, and (hat he ouglit to he |mt to (hatli. 

Pivlnre. 
This sorrowful tiiiunpli Imppened before the eapitol at Home, as when in its an- 
cient state. Forward is seen a larj^e plain, encompassed with walls, where lay two 
lar{»;e lionesses of porj)hyry, whieli, it is probable, the artist introduced, in order to 
make the place more remarkable; and thouf;h it may be doul)t»-d whether they 
have been of so lonj;- standinjij, yet we may easily admit it. On the right sidt; was re- 
presented tiie proud eapitol of marble, and costly architecture, after the Romuit 
ord( r, ascended by a spacious flight of steps. On the top was this inscription in {^old 
letters— SE^'ATUS POFULUSQUE ROMANUS, ?'. e. the senate ami people of 
Rome. Here, they were mountinj^ the steps with arms on pikes. Jloratms followed, 
sheathini;; his sword. Behind him, his mdiappy sister dropped down backwards, 
the people from all corners, Hocked together, muttering and cursing his cruelty ; but 
he, regardless of it, boldly went forward. Before the steps, about three or four 
paces length, the ground was paved with large grey stones ; the residue being rug- 
ged or uneven : the foremost weapon-bearer, entering the gate, held his trophy some^ 
what stooping within it : he was seen from behind, having almost the same action as 
the gladintor ; his left arm extended, and his right leg on the threshold. The second, 
two or three steps down, held his wea|)on up against his body, looking back at the 
third, who follo\ved close, and was speaking to him. This poised on his left le^-, 
having his right very much bent, and the toes of it on a step higher ; his upper parts 
swayed a little to the left, with his head forwards, holding the pike in his left hand 
against his right breast, and the bottom of it with his right hand. The third carried 
the trophy on his shoulder almost upright; his breast projecting, and his back 
swaying a little forwards, with his elbow standing out, setting his right foot on the 
steps; the left being quite behind, and of}' the ground, as walking on, and the other 
before him, as a little stooping ; those three men were called Veliles, or light-armed, 
and dressed in linen, girt about the middle, with daggers, by their sides and plain 
helmets on their heads ; as we see in the prints of Trajan s column, and other remains 
of antiquity. Three or four steps from thence, just in the middle of the piece, 
Homtius advanced in full armour, holding an olive-branch beside his scabbard in 
his left hand, and on the same arm (which, with the elbow, was putting out, and a 
little fore-shortened) a small shield, whereon was represented a lion. His breast was 
fronting, and the right hand lifted up and sheathing his sword. His right lejf was 
put forth, somewhat bent, and the other drawn Air back in the shade of his bodv, as 
if he were stepping forward in haste. With his face fronting he looked down on. 



80 Of Architecture. 

the scahbartl ; having on his head a hehnet crowned witli laurel and oak-leaves; 
with a feather behind, which by the turn of his head, and the swiftness of his walk, 
flew to and fro. A mantle, fastened on his rigiit shoulder, and tucked under his 
chin, hunji' a litlle o^er iiis left shoulder; one flappet of it flew behind, and the other 
forwards, flinging over his left leg. The straps under his coat of armour and on the 
arms were short and broad, and rounding at bottoms. His buskins came half-way 
up the legs. A little from him for\rards was seen the expiring virgin falling back, 
with her feet extended towards him, and arms spread wide, the right lifted up and 
the left sinking, her breast turned to the light, her right hip swelled, her thigh was 
at ftill length, and the leg a little fore-shortened; the left leg hid under the right: 
her face also foreshortened leaned towards the left shoulder, which, with a little of 
the breast, was naked ; her breast garment girt under the breast was flying upwards, 
her upper garment sinking, slung over her right leg, and a flappet of it hung over her 
left arm ; her light tresses, by her tumble, flew upwards. Beneath her, a little more 
to the left side, was an aged woman supporting the noble virgin, and shrieking out 
beholding the murderer ; she, with her breast downw ards, and left hand on the 
ground, and right hand lifted up, was staying with her body, the back of the drop- 
ping Jioman virgin : her head was wound with cloths and fillets. Just behind her 
appeared the half of a pedestal, whereon lay one of the aforesaid lionesses, and 
somewhat further behind the fellow of it, running towards the point of sight. Two 
soldiers followed Horalius, who, in dissatisfaction, seemed to turn back. Not far 
behind the conqueror were some spectators highly discontented ; some were point- 
ing at him, some menacing, others disdainfully turning their backs upon him, &c. 
It looked as if we heard them grumble. On the fore-ground, on the right side, an 
aged man, with one shoulder bare, came hastily running to see what was the matter; 
he had on a short coat with a herdsman's cap on his head, and a flute and scrip at 
his side ; his under parts were, with part of the fore ground in shade, and his back 
fronted the light. A dog ran before, looking back at him, according to the custom 
of tliose creatures. Beyond the capitol, part of a wall with its architrave, and a large 
compass-headed gateway, ran towards the point of sight. This wall extended from 
thence across the piece by the point of sight, to the left side, and was divided by 
rusticated Doric pilasters, into squares, wherein were small niches. Out of this 
gate just below the wall, some cattle, as oxen, cows, goats, and sheep were coming, 
with a she|)herrl, who at the noise was looking back. This shepherd and cattle 
coming in at the gate made me believe he came from the market, because it was 
behind the capitol. Over the wall appeared several fine palace like buildings, as 
also a column, whereon was placed a she wolf, with the two children, Roinules and 
Remus. Above the angle of this wall on the right side, in the distance, was seen, as 



Of Architcdurc. 81 

Wi.'ll as I could giicss, the rock Tarpcia, rising up very liigli ; I>uf neillifr Panthcnn, 
M(mte Cavallo, Vatican, or Cutosseum, as not being as yet known : no ruins or broken 
buildings appeared here, but all beautiful and whole, except some little houses; 
since! tlic town had not been an hundred years standing, nor before ruined. On the 
leCt side forward in the corn(;r, on a rising ground, stood a woman by the trough of 
a fountain, astonished and crying out, who seemed as if she were going away ; lifting 
up one hand on high, and holding out the other to a young girl, who came running 
in confusion. A cliild, held by another girl sitting on tiie side of the trough, was 
looking down on the ground on an overturned pot of milk. This fountain stood 
against a large pyramid, wliicii run towards the [)oint of sight. Several ordinary 
dressed people, men, women, and children, came running in groups three or four to- 
gether from behind the pyramid ; otluTS were returning from thence. The young 
girl, who came running in confusion, had a short coat, and was barefooted, and her 
hair very meanly tied behind. These people and objects with the pyramid, lUled up 
almost a fom-th part of the piece. A row of low hou.ses, like a hamlet, ran by the 
pyramid towards the point of sight, and above them arose some pines, cypresses, and 
other trees. 

This piece was lighted from the right side, yet a little fronting. The capitol gave 
a large ground shade over the steps beyond the two arm-bearers, and continued be- 
yond Horatius, over two or three men, who stood behind him, against whom he was 
strongly set off. The side walls, with the gate, reached half the height of the build- 
ing, the same receiving strong reflections from the grouud, and having ground shades 
which were not too sharp. The pyramid, with the women and children, was kept 
somewhat darkish, by reason of a cloud, except the top of the pyramid, which re- 
ceived a clear light. The sky was full of clouds, especially in the middle, and on 
the left side of the point of sight, behind the houses. 

The Romans in those days, except people of the first rank, wore little or no variety 
in the colours of their clothes ; they were mostly white, or else light grey woollen. 
For this reason, as I conjecture, the designer of these pictures had made the principal 
persons to excel, for 1 perceived that the people were mostly in grey or white ; some 
a little russet, others inclining to green. Few among them, except aged people, had 
long gowns or garments. Horatius s coat of armour shewed golden, the straps under 
it, and on the arms, were elegantly embroidered on a fillemot ground ; his mantle 
was yellowish white, with violet reflection. The scabbard of his sword was dark 
blue, finely wrought, the hilt represented an eagle's head : his buskins tied with 
white strings, but quite fouled, as I judged, by sand and dust, were purple. His 
sisters upper garment was light blue, her breast garment light yellow, wiih violet 
reflection, almost like that of her broflier. The aged woman beneath her was 

VOL. II. M 



82 Of Architecture. 

swarthy skinned ; lier garment greenish blue and plain. The lionesses were dark 
porphyry, and the |)yramid of a rocky stone. 

Having sufliciently viewed th's picture, and exactly learned all the circumstances 
of it, I took inlinite delight in seeing how naturally the occurrence was expressed, 
and that nothing was superfluously introduced, though the story does not make 
mention of all the persons who were brought into this representation. I thougi)t, it 
is truly of groat moment that the j)rincipal parts of a story be well expressed ; and 
herein a good master has work enough to give each person his due passion, to the 
end the matter must speak for itself; but it becomes still more excellent by the ad- 
dition of all other necessary cirrumstances (though not to be found in the historian) 
after such a manner that both appear natural. 

On the right side of this piece, I saw a carved bass-relief in white marble, exhibit- 
ing an emblem over the foregoing. This bass-relief appeared in a niche running to- 
wards the point of sight. On some high steps, Roma was on her right knee, and 
lifted up by Valour. Her breast was fronting, and her head turned a little back- 
wards towards the left shoulder, her right arm hung down, just touching the steps 
with the tips of the fingers; her left elbow stood out towards the left side, in the 
hand whereof she held a hanging flappet of her garment. The left foot, far from the 
steps, rested on the toes, seeming by the rise of the hip, and th<! knee keeping down 
iagainst the steps to push her up. Valour was rej)resented turning its upper parts 
sideways towards Roma, supporting herelbow with its right hand, the arm whereof 
])eing faint in the ground. Its head was in profile, and the left arm guarded with a 
sliield, a little drawn back. It stood somewhat like the known statue of Apollo, 
supported on its right leg, the left faintly nniting with the ground. A little further, 
Albania was on her knees, quite bowing her body ; she was decked as a heroine, 
with a helmet in the form of a town-wall, on her head, and laid with the left hand a 
statf down on the ground, holding the other at her breast; her left knee was up- 
wards, with the foot drawn in, and she looked down with a dejected countenance. 
Behind her stood Fate, yoking her shoulders, and she at the same time pointed back- 
wards with the right hand at some trophies which hung on pikes, and united faintly 
\yith the ground. This goddess of Fate was dressed like an old matron; in her 
girdle stuck a pair of scissors; her under parts were seen sideways, and the upper 
from behind, with her eyes fixed on Roma. Under the trophies the horned Tiber 
god lay with his left arm resting on a large vase, and holding in his right hand an oar 
behind his right side; he lay on his left side, with the breast tunud against the light; 
the left leg was stretched out, yet faintly rising ; the right hip upwards, and the thigh 
seen only to the knee, rested on the other leg, the residue united with the ground. 
Beliind his back the she wolf and parts of the two children were seen. Above him 



Of Arrhilcctnrc. 8.1 

np[)('aro<l some coliiinns, as of a portico, runiiiti<; towards the point of .sif;lit, Nvhu It, 
as on the o(li< r side, were lialf lost in tlu- ^Monnd. Viclonj flying hetuctn Roma 
and Valour, li<ld in hc.v ri.i^lit hand a crown of lanrcl f)vor ihc lu-ad of tli«- former, an<l 
with the left pntting into her hand a sceptre topped with a little ;^lohe; her garment 
was flying behind lier, and her legs quite extended w ithoiit any fore-sliortening, faint- 
ly nnit(Hl with (he t;Toinid. In the shield of Valour was re|)resented the combat of 
Horatins with the Cura/ii, and on her helmet, crowned with oak leaves, was a lion's 
head, and the same on her buskins. This work was inclosed between two young 
palm trees with few leaves. 

The triumph, on account of the mournful accident, so much aflfected me, that I re- 
mained in suspense, not knowing for fear of a miserable issue, whither I might turn to 
the following piece: nevertheless, considering the bravery of Horatitis's exploit, 
whereon depended the power of Home, 1 took heart, in hopes of his preservation, 
which I found agreeable to the w riters relation. 

Horutius then was secured for the murder of his sister, and, according to law, sen- 
tenced to be put to death : yet, in consideration of his heroic action pardoned, on 
condition that his father jiaid, as a fine, a certain sum of money, into the public 
treasury. The picture, as I remember, was thus : — 

Second Picture. 
At the capitol. Justice, or the Roman law, sat in a raised chair, with the scales in 
her left, and a pole-axe in her right hand. In one scale lay a sword, and in the other 
a crown of laurel with a palm branch ; this latter far over balancing the other scale, 
as a token tliat tlie law is mitigated by mercy. The criminal stood very dejected be- 
fore her, w ith his hands ironed behind him. On her left side, the father on his knees 
was offering a vessel of money at her feet: on her right stood Mercy withholding 
the hand wherein was the pole-axe, and with the other pointing at a picture held by 
some children, representing the decayed Roman dominion restored by the valour of 
Horatius. Further were seen the arras of the three slain brethren, planted there by 
himself round the statue of Roma, whereon Justice had fixed her eyes. Another 
child crowned with laurel, was loosing the fetters of the accused with one hand, and 
putting on his helmet, or setting up the cap of liberty with the other. On each side 
of the throne was a bas.s-relief, and over them two niches : in that on the right side 
was represented Numa Pompilivs, and in that on the left, Lycurgus, two of the most 
ancient legislators. The bass-relief under Numa exhibited the example of Charon- 
ilns, who, to enforce his law, stabbed himself in full senate, for having acted contrary 
to it: and under Lycurgus, that of Seleucus, when, for his son's sake, who by law 
had forfeited his eyes, he caused one of his own to be put out. So strict were the 

M 2 



8-1 Of Archiiertmr. 

ancient Romans in support of their laws. Over the throne Iniui; two tahhs;, contain- 
ing: the Roman hrws, written in Greek letters of gold. 

This unexpected event much rejoiced me; wlierefore, full of desire, I went to a 
thiril picture, in ordev to observe on what basis so great a work was built, and found 
it as follows : 

TiiUus llostiUus, chosen by the Roman people for their third king, on account of 
his great ability and merit, invaded the Aibun territory, thougii a stout people, and 
bearing much sway in Italy. These, weakened by many battles, at last agreed with 
the Romans to end the dispute by a combat betw^'cn three brothers on each side : 
those of the Romans were named Iloratii, and of the Albans, Curatii. The tight 
was glorious, yet doubtful, but at last fortunate lor the Romans; for one of the 
lioratii, after having lost his two brothers, mistrusting his strength against three such 
brave enemies, added policy to his courage, and by an artful sleight slew the three 
Curatii one after another, and thus got the victory. 

T/iird Picture. 

Here appeared the place of combat fenced in. On the right side was seen the 
general of the Roman forces, and, on the other, at a distance, he of the Albatis, both 
sitting somewhat high, with their badges of distinction. In the middle of the piece, 
Horatius was represented turning tail to the last of the Curatii; but, returning, he 
run his pursuer through the breast ; whereupon he fell backwards. The second, a 
little from thence, was on his knees, with his face to the ground, and all bloody, 
bearing up a little on his elbow : he lay about the middle of the fence, against a post, 
whereon stood the figure of Fate, or Fortune in copper. Just beyond this post lay 
the third stretched out on his back : and at the end of the paling were seen the two 
dead Horatii. Over the valiant hero, Victory shewed herself, with the left hand 
crowning him with laurel, and with the right holding out a cap and staff to the chief 
of the Romans, who thereupon joyfully came down from his seat, with the acclama- 
tions and clappings of the people. Opposite, stood the chief of the contrary party 
astonished, and turning his back, in order to go away : the people withdrew in tu- 
mult at the sound of the Roman trumpets, leaving the field-badges in the place. On 
the right side, behind the Romans, appeared part of the town-wall, and on the other, 
behind the Albans, up to the wall, the field full of tents on a low ground. Over the 
Roman arbiter, or umpire, were seen Romulus and Remus, cut in a large stone. The 
field-badge of the Albans was a dragon or harpy. In the distance appeared the Ti- 
ber, and the Alps always covered with snow. 

Thus was the plan of this artful piece, which I thought no less wonderful than 
the others in force and disposition, as well as naturalness. Every thing was exactly 



O/ Archil eel lire. 85 

observed, tli<' ])assions and inolions h(» well expressed, IIip plare so plainly apparf-nf, 
llie i|ii:di(v ol" the hy-works so proper, ami tlie lij;litH, sliadt's, colours, &,c. so advan- 
tageously distributed, tliat I could scarce believe it a picture. I could not but ad- 
mire the three remarkable divisions of lliis story : as first, the bef^inning, happening 
M ithoiit the town ; secondly, the sccpiel, seen within the town ; and lastly, the end of 
the story, or, what was transacted in the ca|>itol, without any tiling of moment in- 
terveninj;-, from whence! a painter could make a picture. I sjieak, witii respect to 
till" (lilirrciit matter which o})[)ortunely offers to tiie thoughts and execution of a ju- 
dicious master. 

As the sense of tlie story is very particular, so the three pictures were as excellent 
from iirst to last. In the first, we perceive the lucky chance of arms, or the valour 
of the hero, whereby he gained the repute of a deliverer of his country : in the 
second, we consider hira as a murderer, or, the accident as a bloody triumph, and 
him elated with his success : and, in the third, we see liim a malefactor, coiulenmed 
to be put to death, or one who had transgressed the laws. Truly, those three events 
may serve for instructive examples to all men. Do we not see in them the common 
course of the world, and that too great success and prosperity make many men proud 
and insolent ? and what do not their blind passions lead them to ! certainly, unthank- 
fulness to Heaven is the prelude to many disasters and errors, leading them into the 
greatest dangers : however, all things are governed by Providence. 

The middle of the ceiling had a large oval piece, wherein Providence was, in the 
greatest depth, represented sitting on a globe, dressed in gold stuff, with her head 
crowned, and about it twelve glittering stars, having in her right hand a sceptre, 
with an e\'e on top ; on her breast, a sun, and on her knee holding a looking glass 
w ith her left hand ; her look was full of majesty and authority : she pointed down- 
wards at Roma, who sat a little to the left side, on a cloud, attended by Religion, 
Valour, and Concord. Long Life, Health, and Prospcrili/, came gently waving 
down towards her. Long Life was a beautiful virgin in her prime, with a flame of 
fire on her head, and a serpent with the tail in its mouth in her hand. Health was 
jEsculapins, holding a staff, about w hich twined a serpent. Prosperity appeared a 
naked youth, crowned with laurel, with a cornucopiee, full of fruit, under his arm. 
Religion, or Piety, was dressed like a vestal, holding in her right hand a cup emit- 
ting a ilame, and looking up at Providence . Valour was represented like an Hercules, 
with his club and lion's skin. Concord looked somew hat more composed than Piety, 
having in her arms a bundle of rods, which a Cupid tied with a red ribbon. Roma, 
dressed in white or light blue, under a purple robe embroidered with gold, held in 
her right hand a pike, and in the left a laurel branch \ on her head she had a hel- 
met, and buskins on her legs. 



86 Of Architecture. 

Now, we ought to weigh tlic iiieaiiiiigs of these things. Providence is to be coii- 
siilered as the chief ruler of worldly aflairs, debasing and raising empires as she 
pleases, TJie three gifts of Long Life, Health, and Prosperity, are blessings flowing 
fioni her. The corporeal virtues are the effects of might, whence (hey proceed : the 
first is Religion, the second Valour, and the third Concord : these established Roma 
in her power, and increased it. In relation to art, let ns observe with what ingenu- 
ity and singularity the master has executed those pictures ; I say singularity, since 
I never saw them treated by any other in such a manner. First, Providence is in the 
greatest tiepth, and, according to guess, thrice as large as the life. The three gifts, 
Mhich she sends down, being somewhat lower, are not half sO/ large ; and the under- 
most, to wit, Roma, and the characters accompanying her, are still smaller, yet 
somewhat larger than the life. 

Providence has no bounds, always maintaining uncontrolled power without 
diminution ; and though the three gifts, which flow from her, are but small parts, 
vet, with respect to the undermost figures, they are much larger, and keep among 
them tlieir own forms, as reigning over them. The three others on the undermost 
clouds being but corporeal virtues, are therefore much smaller than the preceding, 
and appear with less majesty : nevertheless i2o»ia excels, and shews herself greater, 
intinuiting thereby her growth and improvement. Her sitthig on clouds implies, in 
my opinion, her rising above all other powers of the world. 

Tills would be a monstrous design, if art, with respect to perspective, were not 
duly observed : but, by this means, the piece looked so perfect, that I judged it could 
not otherwise be good ; for the undermost group, as quite low, was very strong ; the 
middlemost, according to its distance, somewhat fainter; and tiie uppermost, very 
faint, and almost iinpercej)tible. 

This emblem bears a mysterious interpretatif)u, and may, in general, be applied to 
all the governments in the world, provided the figure of Roma be altered, and an- 
other substituted, as things require. Instead of vEsculapius we may represent 
health, by the figure of a woman, and in the place of Hercules, the same; taking 
for Valour a heroine, holding an oaken branch in her right liand, with a lion on her 
shield. 

Li treating formerly of this sort of fal)les, we have called them emblematical, 
carrying a mystic sense, whether they be mundane or spiritual ; however, as a dis- 
tinction between both, and to shew that this is mundane and historical, we must ob- 
serve, that it is not intermixed with any emblematic figures, which have a spiritual 
sense, except those of /Escutapins and Hercules, which therefore in this work 1 
reject as unfit, and only proper for poetic and fabulous subjects; as if, instead 
of Ronm, were introduced Troja ov Egina, which are dominions no where now 



Of yirr.hif eel lire. 87 

subsisting- but in the poetic \vritiiif;;s ; wa find that this enihlc-tn, like its subject, 
is not only mundane and heathonish, as tlie.stoiy oflforativs proves, but that therein 
is also expressed th<; force or mysterious sense i)y those lieatlienish fif^ures. 

Now, iC it be asked, why this ceiliii}; piece does not allude to tlu.- person of I/o- 
ratiiis i\>i that in the tenth chapter to Ucmitcs : my opinion is, that the conclusion of 
the story, so far as it respects him, is contaim d in the second picture: lor here we 
cannot expect any d<'il"icalion, nor do the gods interfere in the matter: they regard 
only those who are reckoned in their uutnber, such as Apneas, Wcrculea Meinnon, 
and others of godly race. 



CHAP. XTIT. 

THE PABLE OF CALISTO, ADAPTED TO THE CORINTHIAN 
ORDER, IN THE UPPER STORY. 

J. AM deliglited to relate here, in four pieces, the wonderfully embellished story of 
Cfl^'*/o, and her dedication ; as not unworthy, in my judgment, to adorn so fine an 
apartment as this last, which was that of the Corinthian order, and very magnifi- 
cent, as well with respect to the extraordinary thoughts as their artful turn ; the 
couclusion whereof renders this work most perfect. 

The piece was as follows — 

Calisto, tired with hunting, went to repose in the shade of the trees ; Jupiter en- 
amoured with her, came to delude her in the shape of Diana, and gratified his pas- 
sion, notwithstanding all her eflbrts to the contrary. 

There, on the right side of the piece, on an eminence, the iimocent creature was 
sitting under the trees, not at rest, but full of concern, shame, and dread, melted 
into tears, with her hand on the edge of a fountain ; her tresses, half loosed, himg 
carelessly over her naked shoulders ; her chaste bosom was above half bare, and 
her legs uncovered to unseemliness, sufficiently shewed her sorrowful fate. Jupiter, 
the author of it, was seen a little off, next the middle of the piece, above the ho- 
rizon, not as a disguised or pretended Diatia, but the chief of the gods, shining 
with majesty, with his diadem on his head, and in his purple robe; not as a thun- 
derer, with lightnings and tempests, but only attended l)y his eagle. The cruel and 
degenerate lover seemed to deride her sorrow, having his left hand up at his breast, 
as if he meant, that he had got his will ; wherefore, penetrating the clouds, he ad- 
vanced through the air, forsaking the miserable woman. The unmerciful incendiary, 
Cupid Avas extinguishmg his torch in the fountain, looking at Jupiter, who, with. 



88 Of Architeciure. 

his pointing" sccplre, comniandod him to do so. Diana ^as seen in the distance, 
in a valley, with her retinue of nymphs. The landscape was delightful and woody : 
here and there appeared some river gods. Behind Calisto, among the trees, stood 
a term of Priapus in shades. I attentively viewed the aforesaid three figures, and, 
retlected to myself, how well they acted their parts ; clearly opening the matter, 
even to the very term, which, though it might he placed there accidentally, yet con- 
tributed towards the expression. 

Second Picture. 

The unhappy Calixto, bemoaning her misfortune, and full of shame and fear, and 
discarded by her mistress, was seeking shelter in solitudes : yet the jealous Jiaw 
spied and found her there. 

On the left side of the piece appeared the superior goddess of heaven, gl ittering 
coifed with peacock's feathers, instead of a diadem, or royal head ornament, and 
seeming to turn about, as she was stepping on a cloud in order to go upwards : 
she was dressed in her blue garment, and held her sceptre in her right hand, on the 
right hip, charging Hellish Rage, or Revenge, which attended and was at her back, 
to punish the innocent Calisto; and, lifting up her left arm, and the fingers straight 
up, she with a severe and envious look, reproached the oppressed creature with 
lying with her consort. Revenge was beating with serpents and adders, besides 
her smoaking pitch-torch, the miserable Calisto ; who now had no more of her 
former shape, except her clothes, which fell a prey to the hellish fury ; there lay the 
quiver, here the bow, yonder the girdle; as I conceived it was a she-bear who 
shook off those clothes, and was taken to flight. Being now metamorphosed into so 
frightful a monster, by the immoveable jealousy of Juno ; she, in her flight, looking- 
up to heaven, seemed, by her roar, to move Jupiter to pity. This landscape was 
also a dark wood, filled here and there with sleeping river gods : among the trees 
appeared some wild beasts running about, and a lion in a bottom on the right side 
near a rock, drinking at a river: up and down arose some palm and other trees. 
After this piece another presented, the subject whereof was this : — 

Areas, son of the deluded and metamorphosed Calisto, was fifteen years of age, 
when, according to his custom, going a hunting, he met with a frightful she-bear 
which came towards him, not to hurt him, as he thought, but, if possible, to make 
herself known to him ; yet ignorant that she was his mother, stoutly prepared to 
shoot her. Jupiter, from heaven, seeing this, in pity hindered the matricide. 

Third Victure. 
Here, on the right side of the piece, Areas appeared gently stepping forth from 



Of Arclutcctiivc. 89 

iKliiud ^oiii«' ircics, and piiUiii}'- :iij arrow into his l)0\v, in order to shoot his iiiothfr, 
tinkiiowii lo liiiii ill that slia|»c. JJiit Mcrcnnj, flyiii'4 ilowii siirldnily, withhidd liis 
arm; at whom he fhcrofore looked hack. The ecleslial mess( iit;rr Ntarii);,^ hchind 
at th«; slie-hear, wliicli was on the second };ronn(l, in(iniatiii|^ with liis stafl' in his 
left hand tliat slie sliould take to fliglit, which she seemed (o do; she stood np- 
right, witli her imder parts towards him, and (he npper tiirne-d to tin; left, swaying 
towards the road. The way she took was appareii), Ixuiiniing from her feet like 
dust, or thin vapours, altering, l>y degrees, into clouds, which ran winding about 
her, and at last mixed with the air, wherein JupiUr appeared, yet very faint, and 
almost imi)erceptihle. In the clouds by him, on his right side, but somewhat lower 
and more forward, sat the three fatal sisters, of whom ClolJio was sj)inning the 
thread, Luchesis winding it on the rcicl, and Alropos ready to cut it, which Jupiter 
observing laid his left hand on the scissors, holding up his sceptre in tlir other, 
with his mouth a little open ; she, sur|)rise(l at this, turned towards him. Areas 
stood astride, with his breast projecting. Behind him, on and near a stone lay 
some game, as a hind, fox, hare, &;c. together with a garment, which I judged to 
be his. Low against the said stone lay a river-god, with his vase. This landscape 
was woody like the others. The she bear, about the middle of the piece, appeared 
in the shade against the light distance. On the left side on tin; second ground, or 
at the extremity of the first, was a ruined tomb, with some cy])resses ; and behind, 
on a further ground, arose a large rock. 

After this, I was curious to view diligently the ceiling-piece, as the conclusion of 
this artful work, and I found it thus : — 

Jupiter aftected with th«^ sorrowful fate of Calisto, docs, notA> ithstanding Jimo'x 
hatred, glorify h<;r with the radiant brightness of the north-star, which among the 
constellations, is named the Great Bear, and is followed by the Little Bear, into 
which her son Areas was transformed. 

Fourth Picture. 
Underneath in the piece the youth was seen tiyiug upwards, pursuing Ids mother 
with a bow and arrow, and supported by some Cupids: he appeared backwards, 
without any fore-shortening, with his right arm, with the arrow extended, and the 
other with the bow behind, having a quiver by his side. Jupiter somewhat above 
him on the right side sitting ou a cloud, and large-sized, was, with an erect scep- 
tre, shewing him the zodiac, wherein a particular bright star appeared very glitter- 
ing. The bear was seen rising a little beyond the said star, looking back upwards, 
and being encompaesed with a great shining light in the shape of a star, which 
enlightened the whole piece ; her hind paws rested on the clouds, which, beside 

VOL. 11. N 



SK) Of Architect live. 

her, from Jupiter, ofl' to the left side rose under her. Quite on the left side sat 
Juno on the rainbow, looking enviously at Areas; she leaned her head on her left 
hand, with tlie elhow on the rainl)ow, and lay half turned to the right, her under 
parts inclining towards Areas, and the upper from him : her right arm and sceptre 
crossed her body. At her feet, on the clouds, lay some water-gods and goddesses, 
as sub-directors of the clouds and dew. Behind her stood her Meacock, with its 
tail so spread as seemingly to serve for a diadem. Iris appeared looking upwards 
behind her with a hand over her eyes to shade them from the beams of the star. 
Diana and Apollo sat behind her. Jjino and those sitting beneath her were shaded 
by the driving clouds above. Diana, Apollo, and others, looked smiling. Jupiter 
aj)peared directly in the light, of equal height with the bear. Juno was a little 
lower, and the river-gods and Areas beneatii iier : he was a youth of small size, re- 
ceiving his light from the star above. 

Thus the work concluded with the deification of the unhappy Calisto, a second 
time metamorj)hosed. It would be troublesome to relate all the particulars of it, 
and needless to the knowing: wherefore, I shall only subjoin the general disposition 
of the lights and shaded parts. Jupiter and Areas were strongly lighted against 
the blue of the sky on the right side. Jtino contrarily, on the left side, where the 
star was dark. The foremost water-god under Jiino, received a little light from 
above, holding his hand over his eyes. 

Animadvei-sion. 

This fable clearly shews; how beautiful bodies are polluted by uncleanness ; for 
in a short time after Calisto was delivered of her son, Areas, Juno transformed her, 
as a punishment of her nnchastity, into a she-bear, a beast so deformed, as to be 
reckoned among monsters. The aforesaid evil has such direful effects, that the 
fruit or children of unlawful love mortally hate their guilty parents ; for beauty 
stained with unchastity is of no account in the eyes of the virtuous, and what 
before created wonder is now a mark of infamy. Ovid, in an elegant and artfnl 
manner, assigns Calisto a notable place in the northern hemisphere, and shews 
Juno's intreating Thetis, that those stars (according to the belief of the heathens) 
inisht never refresh themselves in the sea, in order to pourtray wonderfully her 
t'ternal shame, as surpassing the other capital stars, and having such a station near 
the northern pole, that, as this pole or point of the axis is above our horizon, this 
star, whatever course it takes, can never be out of our sight, and therefore her 
crime be as little out of our memories. 

But a more christian-like inference may be, that the polluted soul, abhorring her 
criuje, by true repentance gained a most glorious and shining aspect, besides a fixed 



Of Architecliiie. 91 

stul ion ill tlir heavens; setting an example to others likf Marif jyinffdnlm, whotse 
crimes, llnoimh re|ientan<'e, were not only ex|)iate(l, bnt entin ly Idotted out. 

The trulli oC this story, takin;; o(J' the |)0»tic mask, is, that Areas, son of Jupiter 
and tiic nympli C'alisto, tauf^ht the Arcudians (who pretemled to he the most antient 
people of the earth, nay, older than (he moon, as Plutarch intimates in his 7fjth and 
92d liotium (piestions, hoaslins^ to he sprunj; from the eartii, and therefore made 
great account of the oak and heech-trees and their fruit, after king J*(:l(is<rus had 
taught them to make it their food, which Itefore was only herhs arul roots) to till the 
ground ami sow corn ; which knowledge he learned of Triptotemus, son of Ceres; 
and afterwards to make hread of it: also, how to weave woollen cloths for covering 
their bodies ; likewise inuring them to many civilities. In acknowledgment of which 
benefaction, and in honour to him, they named their country Arcadia, which before 
was called Pelastria, as J*atu>anias in his Arcadia testifies. 



CHAP. XIV. 

DESCRIPTION OF THE INWAUU VIEW OP THE TEMl'LE OF APOLLO. 

\y E have before, in treating of painter-like beauty, described the outside of this 
temple; we shall now, according to promise, shew the inside of it, keeping our 
former method of writing, as if we had really viewed it. 

Stepping into the portico, I saw over the door of the entrance a carved lyre, 
whence I inferred that this edifice was sacred to Apollo. Going into it, I was 
transported with the sight of all the fine things so artfully worked, and of such 
rich materials. 

In the middle stood the figure of the god on a high pedestal. At the four angles 
of this pedestal sat the Four Seasons, each holding a horn filled with the particu- 
lar fruits and flowers of the seasons. All these were of beautiful plain white 
marble. The figure of Apollo was naked, crowned with laurel, and holding a 
sceptre in its hand. 

The floor was inlaid with variety of costly stones in the form of a terrestrial globe, 
in the centre whereof stood tiie aforesaid figure. 

The arch-work was azure bine, but I could not certainly jierceive it to be Mosaic ; 
it was adorned with the seven planets, and other constellations, all in gold. Near 
the windows, between the two pilasters, were niches filled with figures, each repre- 
senting one of the months of the year : they had the form of young men, and were 
cut in whitish marble. 



^o Of Architecture. 

The whole building consisted also of marble, l)ut not. so fine as that of the 
fiffures; for here and there under the niches in the mouldings, and about the 
windows, it was very veiny. In a basement running round the temple, was carved a 
continued bass relief; the figures of it were aliout four feet high, and of fine white 
stone. The other inside division was the same as we have already described it to be 
without; the uiulermost part being composed of the /owic order, the middlemost of 
the Roman, and the upper of the Corinthian. 

Over the first cornices appeared terms, instead of pilasters ; these represented the 
hours, and with their heads sui)ported the cupola ; they were in the shape of young 
virgins, to the nmnber of twenty-four. It would be tedious to describe them, and 
their l)ad£:es of distinction singly; and the rather, since CrP*« 7i??);a has so handsome- 
ly done it. 

Next, I took notice of the orderly disposition and proportion, which was judicious- 
ly observed throughout the building ; for Apollo's figure was, as I guessed, eight 
feet hi"h, and those about him seven feet and a half; the young men, representing 
the months, were seven feet, and the terms for the hours, six, or six and a half. This 
proportion not only seemed so large, but the imagined height really appeared to me 
to be such, without abatement for distance, as seen from underneath. Reflecting 
on this neatness, I thought it strange for people of sense, nay, great masters, to agree, 
that a lar"e window should come over a small one, or a giant be set above a young 
child, and how such things should look becoming. The undermost bass reliefiS 
consist of smaller figures than those in the upper work, not without reason, for the 
walling wherein they stand, as well as that figure-work, bear throughout the building; 
nevertheless, he, Avho duly considers the matter, and such a sight, will soon alter his 
opinion ; for since Apollo, or the sun, is the largest of all created things, and the 
chief of the universe, observed by the heathens, by his quality among irrational 
creatures, as the father of the four seasons, he is the largest and principal figure. 
The four seasons, brought forth by him, are somewhat less, and the months inferior 
to tlieni in size, to which the hours must give way again, because twenty-four of 
Ihem make but one natural day. We ought also to observe, that the four seasons 
are of a more composed countenance; the months represent young men still grow- 
ing, and the hours shew nimble virgins. 

Is not this division very elegant, with respect to architecture, since every thing 
keeps its relation and property ? A good architect employs his thoughts about 
all those particular objects, in the compartion of halls and apartments ; according 
to which, a good master ought to accommodate himself in the painting of 
buildings. 

KND OF THE EIGHTH BOOK. 



ART OF FAINTING. 

BOOK IX. 
OF THE PAINTING OF CEILINGS, OR PLAFONDS 

CHAP. I. 

OF CEILING-PAINTING IN GENERAL. 

Among all the parts of painting, none is so difficult as that of ornamenting ceil- 
ings, though many think it easy, even more easy than an upright piece on a wall or 
over a chimney : this is owing to ignorance, and an indifference in some people 
what tlieir ceilings are daubed with, so as they be but quickly finished, dazzle the 
eye, and cost little. Formerly they were contented with foliage slightly painted, 
for saving expense, and that in places of consequence only ; whereas now, accord- 
ing to the present state of the painters and times, they can have other things for the 
same price, and the painter making no great matter of it, they lay hold of the oppor- 
tunity, causing the whole ceiling to be tilled with histories and emblems, whether 
they be suitable or not. 

We see that all things from small beginnings improve, and at last come to per- 
fection, through the industry of judicious artists: even so it is in painting; for I 
remember to have seen many ceilings with figures, landscapes, sea-fights, battles, 
&c. without any fore-shortening, as if painted on an upright wall ; and others 
which were represented from underneath more or less, and yet without fore-short- 
ening ; as also some which fore-shortened, but had no point of sight ; whence it is 
evident, that without regard to perspective, such pieces cannot possibly be brought 
to the aforesaid perfection. Now, for order sake, let us examine into the name of 
this branch. 

The word (plafond) is French, and signifies a flat or level superfices, fit to be 



94 Of the P(ihitini>: of Ceilings, or Plafonds. 

covered with boards or clotli, whereon to paint or plai^iter sucli representations or 
ornaments as we think proper, consisting nio,stly of histories with flying figures, 
skies wilh birds, flowers, and many other things ; but the true sense of the word 
(plafond) imports, a ceiUng of halls, apartments, temples, or galleries, even all that 
hangs over head and is parallel with the ground. Such pieces arc called optical, 
because they must be viewed from an assigned distance, without which they un- 
avoidably appear mis-shapen, as we shall hereafter shew. 

In the matter itself we ought to consider the nature of a plafond, or ceiling paint- 
ing, and wherein it differs from a wall painting ; as first, in the fore-shortening of 
the objects, and secondly, in the colour; I speak with respect to the objects con- 
tained in one and the other, such as buildings, ballustrades, figures, and other things 
occurring in compositions; all which, in a hanging picture, retain their perfect 
heights and breadths, shortening in thickness only ; whereas, in plafonds, or ceil- 
ings, neither height, measure, nor proportion, are to be observed ; in a word, every 
thing fore-shortens, except the basis and the cap or top ; what is round remains so, 
and what is square keeps its angles, whether in the middle, in profile, high, or low. 
As for the colours, they doubtless must also differ much from those of hanging pic- 
tures, for they ought to appear more beautiful, not only in the light, but also in the 
shades, I mean in a clear light, as we may easily apprehend. 

We ought moreover to know, that by means of optics or practical perspective, we 
can make crooked things look straight, hollow or rising ones flat and even, and cause 
them outwardly to appear what they really are not ; as the famous F. Niceron and 
others have plainly demonstrated. Wherefore, we need not wonder, that so few 
painters excel in this branch of the art, since they are little conversant with the 
practical part of perspective, though without it it is impossible to execute a good ceil- 
ing-pie(!e. It is certain, that many painters are rash enough to undertake such a 
piece of w ork, and sometimes they happen to perform good things, (for laboriousness 
and daily practice often contribute much) nevertheless they do not incpiire, whether 
their methods be the shortest or longest, commonly chusing that which first offers, 
drudging without certainty, and led by mere chance. 



CHAP. II. 

OF THE USUAL DIFFICULTIES IN CEILING PAINTING. 

X IRST, we are at a grand stand, because we cannot use the life, either in the nudi- 
ties or flying draperies, though they be the principal objects. 



I'LiU LXT 




{^.il£ Lair^.fyc in 



Of tilt V(iintlii!s; of ('ril/>ii!;s, or Vlafonth. fj5 

Secondly, llccaus*.- \\^• caimot, witlioiit <;nal troiililc, find tin- tnif* :m«l ftrtaiti 
places of tli( ligiires \\c introduce; for wliicli reason, (liey must mostly Ijc done by 
gness. 

Tliinlly, Because \ve cannot dnly view the work as lonj^ as i( is on the easel. 
Whenc*', 

Jjastly, It follows, that tin- master is always in |»aiu fur the ( /h i l of ih<' painting 
\\\ being hxed in its place. 

These di/HcuUies are not a little vexatious, even to one who understands his bu- 
siness; for it is otherwise with those who make more use of their hands than heads, 
that is, who work without foinulation, though these ought to be more careful than 
others. l*aint as many ceilings as yon please, as long as you do not believe that 
there are grounds and ruh-s for it, and remain in this ignorance, you will never sur- 
mount the aforesaid difticulties. The most skilful master is often at a loss in this 
part of painting. Let us then in the first place learn perspective, and what it shews 
us ; since thereby only we may arrive at this laudable study, which otherwise is im- 
possible. 



CHAP. III. 

OF FORE-SHORTENING OBJECTS IN CEILINGS. 

XT is obvious, that the distauce in a common picture is the part which retires or 
goes oft' from us, lessens and grows faint, and that the horizon is an utmost distance 
limiting our sight. 

Contrary, in ceilings, our distance and boundary of sight is the firmament or 
starry sky ; whereby objects, the higher they are lessen the more, even to insensi- 
bility, not only in their proportions and neatness, but also in their colours. 

Here we ought to observe, that all objects, of what shape or form soever, keep 
their due bi-eadth, provided they are parallel with the horizon : for instance, place 
a square stone so as to be viewed directly against it, or a figure in the same manner. 
(In Plate LXI. we exhibit a square body.) Here you see that the top and bottom 
of the said stone keep their squares, and that the upper and under corners of it fall 
perpendicularly from the point of sight; moreover, that, however the said square is 
turned, the top and body always make a right angle, and consequently the hinder- 
most ex'iemity is parallel with the foremost. It is the same with figures of other 
objects. 

Place, for instance, a man on one or other side of the piece, standing upright, and 



96 Of the Paintiiiix of Ceilimrs, or Plafonda. 

the point of sight in the luiddlc ; let luni be in profile, and liiive both his shoulders 
of equal height, and you will then perceive that the shoulders, from one to the 
other keep their full breadth, and their I'igure its full thickness from top to toe. 

Thus we see evidently, that there is no other fore-shortening than in the length ; 
or, to say better, in the height; and the more the figures, or other objects, rise 
and approach the point of sight, the shorter and more mis-shapen they become ; 
because in their breadth they i-etain their measure and proportion, as before has been 
said. This is a principal rule, and ought always to be observed. 

As for buildings, yl JBosse gives full precepts touching them, in the latter part 
of his book of Perspective ; yet I have room to say, that when we would place co- 
hunns over colunms for galleries, we ought to draw a rising line through their cen- 
tres, from the basis or ground to the point of sight, even through each balister, and 
find the due proportion of their Ju'ights as well as tlie breadths, by the help of a 
gradation line. 

This, with respect to proportion, must likewise be observed in designing figures 
and other objects, as I shall hereafter shew by examples. 

This sort of painting is not only the most artful, but also the most difficult, as 
I have before said ; because, although we understand the rules and practice of it, 
it appears nevertheless disagreeable and deformed ; which no one can be a judge 
of but the master himself, ludess it be put up in its proper place, and seen at 
the due distance. 



CHAP. IV. 

OF THE SIZES or CEILING FIGURES. 

Xhe figures which we paint in ceilings ought not to exceed the common size of 
a man, to wit, five feet and a half, when they are so low as to be even with the 
ceiling ; but, being higher, and sitting on clouds, or flying, they must lessen and go 
off, as perspective teaches. Yet we may represent the deities as big as we please, 
provided they be not painted with more strength than other figures; it even some- 
times happens, that when they almost vanish out of sight, they have yet human 
size. 

Sun-shine is the most proper and agreeable in s])iritual representations. 

As for the glory of each deity in particular, they keep it when they appear to 
men, but when they are represented in heaven it is a mixture of many smaller, 
producing one great shining. To do this artfully is not a matter of the least 



Of ihc Vtunt'inc;; of CeiVmsfs, or VUifondx. 97 

ronsorjiioncc, ; and Ik; is a f^reat, master, who, instead of dark, thick, and heavy 
riouds like wool-sacks, phices his (li!;iires on (Iiin, Ininsnarr nf, '.ind iiliiiosl iiiscii- 
siblo vaponrs. 

Tt will not 1)(! improper, in this ehapter, to njcntion .-•■inc thini^ of Hyiii;^ li;^nres in 
the air. 

Thongh the air be seldom without a wind, and thi.s may always he somewhat 
perceived, it is nevertheless not adviseahle to make it appear in eeilinnjs; 1)ecanse, 
if the wind were stirrinf;;, the lis^ures flying before it would sei-m to be uiotioiilesH ; 
and contrarily, those which are sitlinj;- or standing shew as much violence as the 
flying ones: for this reason no wind nuist come into the piece but what the velocity 
of each figure causes, that we may plainly see by wlial motion the draperies are 
thrown, as also the places the figures are going to or returnins; from, w\v gently 
waving, and tiie other nindjle and swift. 

The ditVerent stuHs are very proper to tliis on such occasions, and they very uuich 
conduce to express the matter ; as the reflection of rufliing silks for waving figures, 
and which are gently descending, thin and sleazy silk for swift and down-flying 
figures, and the most pliant or thick silk or stufl'for sitting, lying, or standing ones. 
The secret and importance of a fine stirnng ceiling piece lies chiefly herein. 

As for the making of the coloured stuflTs of flying figures, because they cannot be 
put on the layman, and therefore not painted after the life, we cannot lay down any 
rules about them ; nothing but a good conception ami natural judgment, joined to 
continual practice and observation, can bring the artist to perform it. We must use 
these means, and be perfect in them ; observing what stuff is most proper to the oc- 
casion, as we have before intimated. 

We ought also to take care that the thin stufTs be warm and transparent against 
tlie light, whereby they cause an agreeable eflect against the faint sky ; likewise that 
the flying figures never seem to be upright, as if standing, much less to be standing ; 
but always sitting, kneeling, lying, or flying, unless in the case of people supposed 
to be on ceilings or galleries, who then are either standing, stooping, or kneeling, as 
the subject requires. 

Let me say, that we ought sometimes to make some additions to the disposition of 
the general and particular objects ; but with as much caution as possible, that the 
inability of the artist, and the deficiency of the work, may not appear. 



VOL. II. 



98 Of the Fainting of Ceilings, or Plafonds. 

CHAP. V. 

METHOD FOR VIEWING A CEILING-PIECE ON THE EASEL, AS IF ON 

THE CEILING. 

VV E have already observed the difficulties arising in ceilings, with respect to the 
use of the life, and in laying down rules subservient to it. Now, had I my sight I 
should certainly find out some; but, siuce this is impracticable without figural de- 
monstration, and I cannot possibly verbally do it, 1 shall nevertheless shew some me- 
thods, which, thoiigh they may seem trifling, have always been of service to me, and 
of little trouble in their use. 

After sketching my design upon paper, I fi.\ed it against a low ceiling ; then, tak- 
ing a looking glass and sitting under it, I with ease exactly considered every thing, 
observing what was wanting in it, and thus I marked and corrected fiinlts as much 
as I possibly could. Next, I drew each figure, whether naked or clothed, after the 
life, in such manner as shall hereafter be shewn. Then I dead-coloured my piece 
with such light as I thought proper. After this I took the looking glass again, and 
held it over my head, in order to view comniodiously the piece standing behind me, 
inclining a little backwards on the easel as if it were against the ceiling, and casting 
my eyes every where, first on the general design and then on the particular parts ; 
this examen I repeated, till, by several corrections, I found that I had brought the 
piece to my fancy. Here be mindful not to take too near a distance, to the end the 
glass may take in the whole piece ; for which reason I sometimes got with the looking 
glass ou a chair or table, and having my pallet and pencils in readiness, and brought 
my piece into such forwardness, I finished it without further looking back. 

I will now, for the service of those who may find it useful and necessary, also 
treat. 



CHAP. VI. 

OF DESIGNING AFTER THE LIFE, FOR THE USE OF CEILING 

PAINTERS. 

W E must not flatter ourselves, that ceiling painting can be performed without good 
knowledge in proportion, since, as has been said, we cannot conveniently make use 
of the life; for, how great soever your skill may be, you will find difficulty enough, 
though the life were before you, to bring it ou the cloth. Nevertheless, to shew that 



Plate I.XII 




(/. r/e Zf//rr/je iiir 



I.(}7rn'if^Iiam .iriJp 



Of the Painting of Ceilings, or Plafonds. 99 

it may 1)C doiif, and tliat I have oftfii used tlie life, I sliall, fur the service of those 
who are not sparing of pains, lay down my manner of doing it. 

After I had set the model, whether of man or woman, on a high place, according 
to my sketch, I sat down on the Hoor with my back against tlie scaffold, with a look- 
ing-glass between my legs, whi<-h 1 moved and turned about so long, till the model 
appeared in it in such a manner as I wanted according to my point of sight ; and 
then designing it on drawing paper as correct as possible, I ])ainted after this design 
witliout any trouble. 

As for the dresses 1 managed \\\vn\ in the same manner, casting the garment ou 
the layman according to my sketch ; I mean without ilying, which is a thing impos- 
sible, and depends only on imagination. I then placed the layman, thus dressed, 
on a high tressel, and sat down against it in the manner aforesaid, and marie a de- 
sign of the dress : if it was a flying or lying figure I made shift with packthread, 
wires, or such like means, as well as I could, sparing for no trouble, wlicn tlie mat- 
ter was important, and 1 had a mind to do something fine. 

I used the same method in designing after all sorts of plasters, as faces, vases, 
urns, ornami!nts, capitals, festoons of flowers, &c. in order to liave them from un- 
derneath. Thus I mastered the greatest diflSculties occurring in this study. How- 
ever, I did not this before my cloth was in readiness for it, that I might not mistake ; 
since, notwithstanding all our care ia some things, especially upright standing 
objects, we may easily be deceived. 

As to the preparation of the cloths for our design, as likewise the dead-colouring, 
in order to finish, and thereby refresh our memories, I shall now treat of them. 

First, I fix the point of sight either within or without the piece, as my place of 
standing directs ; then I strike with a chalked thread, from the said point, as many 
lines over my piece as I find necessary to serve all my upright standing objects, viz. 
balusters, columns, pilasters, figures, &c. which I suppose to be perpendicular : I 
also strike some diagonals, or slope lines, from that side of the piece whence the 
light comes, either right or left, parallel and equidistant from each other. These 
put me in mind how high or low the light falls ou my objects : if they run parallel 
with the base, the objects are lighted entirely from the side ; if oblique or sloping, 
as before is said, they lighten a little fronting ; and if they fall from on high from 
the point of sight, the light comes directly fronting, as is visible in the examples, 
Numb. 1, -2, 3, in Plate LXII. 

I think myself obliged here to propose to the artist a small practice of my own 
invention ; and, in my opinion, of little trouble, but certain great advantage to 
ceiling painters ; since we find that, although there are certain rules, yet they can- 
liot be put in use without the greatest trouble, application, and loss of time, unless 

o 2 



100 Of the. Painting of Ceilings, or Plafonds. 

aidetl by some practice or other, or by some artful instrument ; like astronomy, 
which, how demonstrative soever, l)as its globe and astrolabe ; architecture, its 
plan and level ; geometry, the oval, triangle, square and compasses ; mathematics, 
algebra, &c. But to return to my invention. 

I first mould some wax puppets, as we have shewn in the 6th Chapter on Compo- 
sition, as large and as many as I think proper; next I take as many pointed wires, 
some long, others short, whereon to stick the puppets, and keep them from bend- 
ing, whether they be made standing, lying, flying, or sitting : this being done I take 
an oljlong wooden trough, lined with tin, of what size I think proper, and three or 
four fingers deep, for tlie placing as many puppets as I please, fnto the corners I 
put some pins or screws to fasten a cover of wood, or tin fitting the trough, and 
made full of little holes wherein to stick the aforesaid wired puppets, and so as 
they may turn easily : then I fill the trough with clay or kneaded bran, and thus my 
machine is in readiness. Now when 1 make use of it I stick my puppets, bent and 
turned according to my design, on the wires, and through the holes into the clay 
where I would have them, one high, another low, one stooping forwards, another 
leaning back, &c. as the subject requii'es, which will then stand immoveable. 

My scheme being in this forwardness I lean the whole machine back on a table, 
be the light left or right, and then slightly design the figures in llu; manner I have 
shewed with the lines. I can give the machine such a light as T desire, either from 
aside, fronting, or from on high, a common, sun-shine, or candle-light. 

Now for perfecting this sketch and conveniently painting after it, I set my lay- 
man, with such a dress as each figure requires, in the manner before laid down ; and 
then, my cloth being ready, I proceed to painting. 

I invented this machine in the year 1668, and put it in use for about five years 
■with great advantage, and with such exact reflection, that I afterwards had no fur- 
tiier occasion for it, though I never used more than three, or at most four puppets. 

Now the curious artist must also know what observations I made in the use of 
the machine. /^ ; 

First, as Plate LXIII. shews, I piit one puppet coming directly down, quite ex- 
tended, namely, with the head and feet both on a line, and then observed that there 
was not the least fore-shortening, all the parts having their full lengths. 

A second puppet I set upright, standing in profile on one side of the point of 
sight, and found it fore-siiortened in all its parts. 

A third I set flying upwards from Ixhind forwards, and perceived that the mem- 
bers fore-siiortened somewhat more than those of the first, and somewhat less than, 
those of the second. 

A fourth I placed sitting with its upper parts upright, the thighs parallel, and; 



2V.f/-,- Lxnr. 




<,' ,/i- J^.l,/'t'/,fc- 



y (hmn^am .'tij/fp 



Of the Painting of Ceilings, or Phfomls. 101 

the legs like the upper parts, and observed, that wlieii it was fjiiite in profde, the 
upper parts and lejjfs fore-shortened, and the tliiji;h kept its full length, as it also did 
when in a front position. 

Having made a firm impression of these things in my thoughts, 1 had no fnrther 
occasion for that method. 

We shall now say something 



CHAP. VII. 

OF THE COLOURING OF FLYING FTGURFS. 

jLLrnEiN we must observe, that in ceiling-painting it is the same as in landscapes. 
First, we rub in the greatest light of the sky, th(;n all |}arts about it; next the high- 
est and most faint objects, and then the lower and more near ones ; and in case a 
balustrade be represented, it must be the last : the reason of this 1 have shewn in 
treating of the dead-colouring of histories and landscapes. 

Moreover, as in a line landscape the sky principally governs all things, and with- 
out it no proper distance can be given to the picture, so it is the same in a ceiling- 
piece with ligures tlying through the air ; for it is impossible to make objects rise, 
unless they have some communication with the air. Nor is it enough for objects 
going oft' higher and further from us, to be painted fainter and fainter, as in a draw- 
ing or print, but the colour must also be shewn, and as the air is coloured so must 
the objects partake of it, I mean in their shades; for if the air be blue, yellow, or 
red, the shades ought likewise to have a mixture of blue, yellow, or red. 

As to the light of the objects, we must observe that, of what colour soever it be, 
it breaks and grows darker as it goes off; even were the air, as I may say, snow- 
white, it breaks by distance or air interposing ; the red becomes violet, the yellow 
greenish, and the violet blue : as the objects go off from us and approach the air 
they are darkened ; white becomes darker, pale yellow the same, and so on in other 
colours. 

Something still remains to be remarked with respect to objects in the air, viz. 
that since the air communicates light from all parts, the broad shades cannot pos- 
sibly be so dark as in a landscape or other parts ; but contrarily, the dark touches 
will be so much the stronger: all that is in shade ought to be lighter and seen more 
plain, yet somewhat less than in the ligiit. It must be likewise known, that round 
objects have no surface, especially on the shaded side ; that is to say, the outline 
against the sky ought to unite and vanish, not quite scrumbled away, but made 



102 Of the rainting of Ceilings, or Flafonds. 

somewhat ligliter on the edge, as we have clearly demonstrated by the example of 
a globular body, Book I. Chap. VI.; implying, that such Morks in the air differ froin 
others, to wit, that the objects against the sky are more rounding and going off. 



CHAP. VIII. 

GENERAL OBSERVATIONS IN PAINTING THE CEILINGS OF 
HALLS, GALLERIES, &C. 

The first and principal obser\'ation on these occasions is, that the quality and re- 
gularity of the architecture be firmly preserved in all its j)arts. 

The second observation concerns the grandeur of the arciiitecture, as being the 
main matter. Painting in this case is only to be considered as an aid, to accom- 
plish it with less charges ; wherefore such care must be taken, that the painter's de- 
signs do not mar those of the architect, but that both unite in such a manner as to 
induce the eye to take every thing for truth itself. 

By the first observation, that the architecture ought to preserve its regularity, we 
give to understand, that the structure of the room must chiefly be regarded by the 
painter in his ceiling pieces, so as not to be hurt by making openings wliere they 
ought not to be; for it is not allowable to make them every where as largo or small 
as we please: the ceiling must remain ceiling. All that is without the painting, as 
the summers, ought to have their pro])er thicknesses, and be lasting, and not seem 
as tumbling, which yet through heedlessness sometimes is the case. For instance, 
let us suppose the ceiling divided into three pannels lined with cloth ; one next to 
the windows, the second in the middle over the chimney, and the third to be next 
the wall ; that in the middle is between two summers one foot in, and the two side 
ones lie almost flush w ith the under parts of those summers. Now if the two side 
cloths be, like tlie middle one, adorned with sky, and the thickness of the summer 
(which is one foot) not painted on the cloth, the ceiling on those sides is so much 
weakened, or at least seems to be so, and is heavier in the middle, contrary to ar- 
chitecture : M hereas to make it look natural, and according to order, the ponde- 
rosity must in this case be on the sides, and the middle part lightest, that it may 
not seem to be falling on our heads. Moreover, we ought to observe, that there 
must be but one opening, and that in the middle, since there is but one point of 
sight and but one place of standing to view the work to advantage. As for paint- 
ing the thickness of the summer, I only said it to rectify a mistake often connnitted 
when a ceiling is made all o\ er open, and, instead of a covering, nothing is left but 



Of the Pd'nUing of Ceilings, ov Thifonds. 103 

a grate whirh ramiot lie juslilicd. Sonic (liiiik it may pass for a lantern, but tht-y 
are niistnkcn, for a lantern riscis, and a cr-ilinf;- lies flat; niortovor, llu' wliolf r«iiin{j 
cannot serve for a lantern, because of the windows in front. The prinei|)al or n uhlle 
piece must predominate, and of consequence be open, and the others closed ; I mean 
not to have any sky or living- creatnres, but bass-reliefs, foliage, compartments or 
flowers, all of such a colour as suits with the apartment. Thii^ I judge to be the 
first and principal care and study of a good Chiling painter, before he sets about 
the worls ; for in llie division of a ceiling it is as with a diamond, the largest and 
most valuable is set in the middle, and round it the less and less. 

As to the second observation, that the art of painting is aiding to architecture, 
and enriches it at less expense, the point is plain; wherefore I shall proceed to shew 
the rejison why the one may spoil the other. 

In painting divisions, it often happens that the summers have not proper rests 
to lie on, especially when the ceiling is covered all over (and the summers hid) 
with a sii.glecloth, and left to the judgment of an ignorant painter, who then with- 
out considcralion, ividesit into three, four, six, eight, or more pannels, and these 
parted liy painted snnnners, which do not bear on any thing. Now to prevent this 
you must let each summer rest on a discharger, pilaster, or cartouche, as architec- 
ture ti aches: for instance, were you to divide the two pannds next the windows, 
and wall each into two parts, in order to have four pannels, this would be improper 
and against architecture, because of the flatness over the window, unless it were 
compass-headed, and then it would not do without a cartouche. 

If it it be asked, whether the division be a painter's business? I say, it is, so far 
as he understands architecture, otherwise more proper for an architect ; at least it 
may be easily done \ni\\ his assistance. 

As to the work, where the painting may disorder or be contrary to architecture, 
it lies in the designs, when they do not suit the building, nor perfectly bear on 
foundations, or have their proper weight. By the foundation of the painting, I 
raean the apartment; and by the weight of the design, that what the painter in- 
tends to exhibit in his ceiling piece be not too heavy, and seem to press down the 
under parts. The better to clear my meaning, I will suppose a room to be twenty 
feet square : now if a second depth, or upper i-oom, were to be represented, the 
piers, columns, doors, and windows thereof must needs accord with tho.se of the 
under room and bear upon them ; and, in the next place, the course of orders ought 
exactly to be observed, as architecture teaches, that is to say, the heaviest must be 
undermost : first the Tuscan, next the Doric, then the loftic, next the Roman, and 
lastly, the Corinthian, and so upwards lighter and lighter, which I think is seldom 
observed ; and the reason is, because the figures are sometimes represented larger 



104 Of the rainfiiig of Ceiliiiga, or Plafonds. 

than tlip life, which nocossitatos tlie artist to proportion his hy-works arcordiric^ly : 
an uniJirHonahle error, and not at any rate to be justifufl. But I shall say more of 
this on another oceasion, and now puisne onr purpose in ceilings. A principal 
point is that the work rise, and that its force unite with the life; that is, that the 
objects in the lower parts be not painted stronger than the fixed work, as coinpart- 
iiients, bass-reliefs, and other ornaments, which, not being foreshortened, receive 
their light through the windows. Now it may be asked, whether, in case we were 
to represent an apartment above with the same light as below, the force of light 
and shade must not be the same? And I say it ought not, because of the great dif- 
ference between them ; as we may easily suppose in two columns set over each 
other, receiving their light from one front, the one from the undermost, and the 
other from the uppermost windows : here the upper base must have no more force 
than the under capital, for were it otherwise it would seem to be nearer ; it would 
also not rise, and consequently overpower the life. It is here, as in a fine landscape, 
where the fore-ground has the greatest force, and the second and third are less and 
fainter in proportion as they go off. It is the same with flying figures ; for the light 
■weakens by their rising, and the shades become, as well as in a room by the sur- 
rounding air, weaker and fainter ; but the touches and shades keep their force. 

We have observed what is necessary to the stability and regularity of the architec- 
ture with respect to painting, so that both may seem to be one body ; as we shall 
exemplify by the foUovting fable out of Ovid, proposed here as a painter-like 
simile. 

Salmacis and Hermapliroditns, two accomplished and agreeable young people, I 
introduce, representing Architecture and Painting. Sahnacis meeting Hermaphro- 
(litus, and imagining her happiness lay in the possession of so beautiful an object, 
falls in love with him ; but finding a repulse, she invokes the aid of the gods, and 
thereby obtains her earnest suit. The young man, not daring to resist the will of 
heaven, gives up the cause, and is by Mercury (whom we must observe here to be 
Optics), joined to her, and thus of two bodies is made one. Further applications 
are needless, since the simile sufficiently explains itself 

Now, to continue our subject, the following observations are, at the beginning of 
the work, chiefly necessary. 

First, The condition of the place. 

Secondly, The quality, office, and inclination of the owner, and what subjects are 
proper thereto, whether histories, fables, &c. 

Thirdly, The disposition of the subjects. 

Fourthly, How the subject is to be divided. 

First, By the condition of the place I mean the light of the room, and in what 



Of the Tuinlini^ of Ceilings, or Plafonds. 105 

manner it tfikf's llic roiling ; also into how many pamitls tlic ircliit'.ct has divided 
th<j ceiling, and uhicli is ihv. principal, llial we niaj adapt our thoughts thereto in 
the disposition of the representations, as well as in the execution of them. 

Secondly, By the quality, &c. of the owner, we must understand whether he he 
a divine or lawyer, j)hilo.soplicr or artisan, and wiiether he incline to spiritual or 
moral, general or partienlar representations; that is, such as relate to him or 
liis family in particular, or generally to any one who may live in the house after 
his decease; according to which information we ought to choose subjects suitable. 

Thirdly, How (ho snlijects ought to be disposed ; namely, wliat must be placed 
above in the air, wherein, as is said, lies the soul of a room-jiainting, and what below, 
as touching the body of it : this we divide into spiritual and moral ; spiritual, all 
that is governed by heaven ; and moral, every thing that is directed by our judg- 
ment. 

Fourthly, Ifow the subject is to be divided. Here the principal piece in the mid- 
dle must shew either the cause or rise of the story, or the eliect of it ; the next to it 
must exhibit the matter itself; and that further o/f, an appendix to or inference from 
it. But to make this point plainer, I shall give an example. 

In the middle pannel I place Solomon, before the Ark of the Covenant, praying 
to God for wisdom, and on each side I represent, surrounded with a glory, the gifts 
which God bestows on him, as wisdom and riches flowing down ; and iu the lesser 
pannels I exhibit, in bass-relief, the corporeal virtues. On this ground we may treat 
any thing or subject whatsoever ; and by having due regard to the aforesaid four 
particulars, and well executing them, such a representation will certainly please 
every one, e^en envy itself. 

Hence we may sufliciently perceive how orderly we must manage ; wherefore it is 
no wonder that so few excel in ceiling painting, though it has rules as well as other 
studies; but, if these be not duly observed, we cannot gain the point. He that sets 
up for a good master, must shew that he understands his art. 

If I am asked, whether I think Corregio, Cortoiia, Vovet, and others, who per- 
formed wonders in this branch, have always so punctually followed the rules, and 
so nicely regarded all the observations here laid down, according to my apprehen- 
sion ? I answer, that it would have been better if they had done it ; or else what I 
say must, as I have shewed in a foregoing chapter, be owing to the machine with 
puppets, which I made use of for four or hve years, and afterwards laid aside; for 
we ouglit lirst to have a thorough knowledge of a thing, and then demonstrate it. 
But 1 am further of opinion, that had the great masters perfectly known the pre- 
scribed rules, we should not find such great mistakes in their works, as some now 
think there arie. Nevertheless, it is most certain, that none are qualified for this 

VOL. 11. p 



lOG Of the Painting of Ceilinos, or Thifonds. 

judgment, but those who liavc made it their practice ; for lie who understands the 
ruh-s, and rct;iins them in nu luorv, can always judge whether tliey l)e observed or 
not, though not able to do it himself; yet they who work only by guess, and know 
nothing of groinids and rules, are more unpardonable than those who are ac- 
quainted with them and do not use them ; though both blamewortiiy, tiie one for 
his neglect of learning, and tiie other for his knowledge and neglect of using it. 

I am very sensible tiiat some will make little account of many things, by me de- 
livered as necessary ; but I am in no pain for that, if I can but give satisfaction to a 
curious reader. 

I must'own, that in my juvenile years I daubed some ceilings, but never flat- 
tered myself that I understood the art so as I ought, because I was then ignorant 
that there were any certain grounds and rules ; nevertheless I afterwards attained 
them, by sometimes hearing others <liscourse about them, and by the rules of 
perspective, and by my own indefatigable api^licat.nri to so noble a study; inso- 
much, that at last 1 could sketch a large and grand composition with more certainty 
and less trouble than formerly a little one. I must, on this occasion, relate what 
course I took. 

I had in my room a small projecting closet, and when I was to compose a picture, 
] pinned my paper against the upper part of it ; and, having a candle in one hand, 
and a crayon in the other, I laid myself on my back, and scratched my thoughts on 
the paper. This I found to be a good method for preventing mistakes, I mean in 
the sketch. Now for the painting it, I also did it against the ceiling, yet not after 
such a slight scratch ; for, having made my sketch, I took out of the prints of Vovet 
and others, such actions and postures as were proper ; altering them either in the 
faces, hands, or folds of draperies, more or less, by gness, as well as I could. Thus 
I made shift, yet all was done against the ceiling; whereby you may judge what 
trouble I had, as well in finding things as afterwards in executing them, which really 
was double work ; but when better informed, I sat commodiously at my easel. He 
who proceeds with certainty has a great advantage above others. 



CHAP. IX. 

METHOD FOR DRAWING FORE-SIIOKTENED BUILDINGS, FIGURES, 
TREES, &C. AFTER TIIE LIFE. 

Since it commonly happens, on nature's denying her favourable assistance, that 
we have recourse to our wits for means to supply the defect ; it was even my case in 



rA/ihxw 




y. i.tr/ftt/iam JOiAj. 



Of the Painting of Ceilings, or Plafonds. 107 

cieliDg' paiiitini--. After having given myself iinicli tioulde to no purpose, ami tukui 
useless pains ia order to design every tiling after the life, 1 at last found out the fol- 
lowing method, which has made me full amends. It is very prolitahle in all pluceB 
with low horizons, as you will perceive in the use. 

I suppose then, for instance, that I am to make a design of the Stadt-house at 
Amstcrditm (it is no matter if it were thrice its present height), and this without look- 
ing up. 1 choose a station or distance of eight feet, more or less, from the building, 
as occasion requii'es. Then I take a convex looking glass of about a foot diameter 
(to be bought at the Nuremherir tOy-shops), and place it against the inside of my 
drawing-board or port-folio: 1 contrive it in such a manner, that it may either stand 
upright or leaning back, according as I would see things either from beneath or 
higher. Thus I approach with the open port-folio, and my back towards the object, 
till the building, tree, 8:c. appear as I would have it, and then design it from the look- 
ing-glass on blue or white pajjer. 

This method is very convenient for drawing all sorts of large M'orks in nar- 
row places or sti:eets, even a view of twenty or thirty houses. It is also useful to 
landscape painters in their country views ; they may take whole tracts of land, 
with towns and villages, waters, woods, hills, and sea, from east to west, without 
moving either head or eyes : it is likewise proper for those who are ignorant of 
perspective. 

We must here also shew a method for representing all sorts of fore-shortened tlat- 
faced compositions, whether pictures, hangings, or bas-reliefs, against walls, ceil- 
ings, or any where else ; either standing, hanging, or lying, and that with certainty, 
according to perspective. These are things which painters often meet with in 
exhibiting rooms, galleries, gardens, and other places ; and the method for doing it, 
though not attended with difficulty, yet sometimes puzzles those who neglect it. 

I have therefore chosen the example in Plate LXIV. which is the foundation of 
all fore-shortenings, as well of apartments as ceilings, and the performance is as 
follows : — Having made the scheme of a room in perspective, 1 divide the height and 
width of the side wall (where I would have hangings or representations of pictures) 
into a certain number of diminishing feet, fetcliing the cross lines from the point of 
sight, and the perpendiculars from the plan or scale. 

Now in this example we perceive four principal fore-shortenings; for A is the ceil- 
ing, B a side wall, C the floor, D a loose picture hanging forwards ; all four pro- 
ceeding, after one and the same manner, from the point of sight, as the middle part 
E shews, which is divided into squares. To say more would be useless, and tedious 
to those who are in the least conversant with this art. 

p2 



108 Of the Pahithig of Ceilings, or Plafonds. 

CHAP. X. 

OF THE HAKMONY AND UNION OF COLOURS IN CEILING PIECES. 

Although in tlu- chapter touching the deities, ami their qualities, we shall treat 
of the colours proper to them, we must, on this occasion, say soinetliing previous, 
and shew how the colom's ought to he placed and treated, in order to create a per- 
fect harmonj-. 

You must not herein, b\ any means, be known by flariug, strong, and glittering 
colours. I am of opinion that, on this occasion, nothing suits better than the union 
of the colours; because it is agreeable to the eye, causes a fine relief, and contains 
something uncommon, even supernatural. And when I pretend here, that in ceil- 
ing pieces you ought to use tender and weak colours (even were they mostly fetch- 
ed from white) 1 do not contradict my assertion in a former chapter, to wit, that 
particular colours are assigned to the deities, according to the nature and meaning 
of each, as red, purple, yellow, blue, green, &c. and even to be known by them, 
without their usual tokens of distinction, as Phtebiis with the sun, Diana with the 
moon, Mercury with his caduceus, Ceres with her ears of corn, Jupiter with the 
eagle, Juno with the peacock, Momus with his fool's cap and bauble, &c. They 
who can give their pieces such an expression are principally commendable, and the 
painting must look well. Nevertheless, I do not hereby confine the lightness and 
darkness of the colours, whether they difler little or much from each other, or 
whether they ought to be almost all white, or light; since the colours may be beau- 
tiful, be they ever so light. Even were a ceiling piece to consist only of white and 
black, light and shade, it would have no less decorum, nor be^ less valuable. 1 
think it, in this case, to be much like a j)rint, which, though consisting only of 
white and black, has yet its harmony and decorum, when light and shade are well 
disposed against each other ; and still more with the addition of proper colours, and 
those thinly and transparently managed, whereby it gets the property of a picture. 

As the principal goodness of a ceiling piece lies in a|i artful disposition of the 
figures above each other, so it is of no less consequence that the colours be well 
adapted thereto. 

I will now give an instance in two pieces, difiering from each other in light and 
shade. The one has three, and the other two depths. The former has its under- 
most depth strongly set oft' in colour against the second, which is a little dark, and 
the third is light against the dark blue of the sky. In the latter (which I think the 



Of ihe Painting of Ceilings, or Plafonrh. 109 

best, on account of (leconiin) (he iippi-iiiiost j^ronp is dark .-if^ainst a liglitVjluf; nky, 
and tlic nndcriiiosi, l>y (Ix; force ol lijfht, set off against the npp( riiiost. J>v<'n were 
we tlins to dispose tlin-c or more groimds or j^roups over each other, it would look 
very decorous ; and each (h'ily woidd, nev* rlli<l<;ss, keep its pr<iper colours, yet 
less in forci, in |)roi)()rti(in to the distiniee; for wlu n the uppermost group is set off 
against the lii;ht sky, if causes a woiidi rlui i;o-o(r, and tlir reason proceeds from the 
skys Mcuiing to he in(init«'ly higher, which contrariwise cainiot he efl'ecfed. 

If if he ol)jeefed, that supp<»sing oik; of (he priiicij)al figures in (he uppermost 
group, ought, according to its dignity, and the reasons laid down in (lie suiting of 
colours, to have a white dress, and therefore tin; aforesaid posifion will he over- 
thrown ; I deny it; for it will he helped by disposing some dark clouds beliind, 
which will preserve that garment in its force, and make it have a pleasing harmony 
with the rest of the work. In the disposition of oiijects, over, near, and hehind 
each other, we have nn)re largely treated on this point, and shewed its truth and 
decorum : for dark against light cannot advance with so unich force as the light 
may against the dark, because the light has greater strength in i(self However, to 
put an end to a point of so great latitmle, which by discourse cannot i)e fully de- 
monstrated, T shall conclude it with the great Junius, who, in his third book of the 
Art of Painting, says — 

" Thus we see that artists, in their works, create shades or depths, to the end 
that the parts to come out may approach with more force, and seem to meet the eye 
of the beholder, even without the j)icture. Let two parallel lines, says Loiigiiius* 
be drawn upon a cloth, with light and dark colours ; the brightness of the light will 
soonest strike the eye, and seem to be nearest." And a little further, quoting 
Johannes (Trommaliciis, he says,j" "If we paint a board wifh white and black, the 
white will always seem to be nearer, and the black further of!'. Therefore,"' con- 
tinues the same author, in his observation on this point, " the painters also make 
use of blackish or darkish-brown colours, when they are to rej)resent the deep hol- 
low of a well, cistern, ditch, bottomless pit, or the like. But when, on the contrary, 
they will make any thing come out, as the breasts of a woman, a hand held out, or 
the feet of a leaping or running horse, they lay on both the sides a sufficient shade of 
black and brown colours, in order that these parts may, by the neighbouring dark- 
ness, be thrown ofl'from the picture \>ith a lively force.'' 

* De Sublim. Orat. 15. f Li Lib. 1. Meleorol. ArisL 



1 10 Of the Puinting of Ceilings, or Tlafondi. 



CHAP. XL 

OF THE DEITIES IN SACKED AND PROFANE IflSTORY, AND FABLES; 
AND, FIRST, OF THE DIFFERENCE BETWEEN A SACRED AND PRO- 
FANE REPRESENTATION. 

Having done with treating of ceiling pieces, I thought it improper to end this book, 
and make a new one of the following chapters; becanse the matter has such a con- 
nexion, that we can scarce think of the one, without falling presently on the other. 

It is certain, that in common pictures the deities, ghosts, demi-gods, angels, vir- 
tues, and other powers may likewise be introduced, nay, are even inseparable ad- 
juncts ; but into ceiling pieces, where the upper partis the sky, they must of necessity 
come ; because the major part of such representations relate either to their persons, 
qualities, or virtues. 

Now, duly to execute this representation of the deities, the artist ought chiefly to 
be acquainted with the sacred and profane stories, as well as with the poetical fic- 
tions, that he may learn from them the particular occurrences and propiriies peculiar 
to each person and rank of the deities or upper powers, and represent them accord- 
ingly; for although imagination must, in this point, lend great assistance, yet it is 
not safe for every man to rely entirely thereon, lest he should be deceived ; like the 
man, whose neighbour dreaming that in a certain place was hidden great treasure, 
imd awaking and going thither found it by digging, and carried it home; he, on this 
n-ood luck, laid himself down on a heap of poppies, in hopes of the same happiness, 
but after a long sleep, he awaked without any advantageous intimation from his 
dream • contrarilv, found his pocket picked, and thus at once was bereft of his hopes 
and the money he before had in possession. This simile is too plain to need nearer 
application. 

A judicious master must certainly be well exercised in the knowledge of the true 
conditions of the things he is to manage, that he may not be thought an ignorant; for 
the truth cannot be concealed with respect to the inventor. Wherefore you ought 
to take heed of mixing this truth with false things, especially in sacred stories, or 
spiritual representations; since there is so great a contrariety between them, that 
they cannot bo joined, unless to shew the disagreement: I say, they cannot possibly 
be joined in order to express a single meaning, but will rather serve to confound, 
weaken, and mistake it; except they be separately disposed, the spiritual ai)ove, in 
heaven, and the worldly below, on the earth. I speak with respect to emblems ; 
for there i.-? a great disparity between Pallas and the Wisdom of God, since the latr 



Of the PnintiniT of Crilivqt, or P/qforids. Ill 

tor cannot bo attribntcd to any |)eisoii, ;iii(l uiucli less r(|>i«s«:iiktl on the earth. 
Tlic >i\n\c. may Ix- said of ./iinns and Vrovidence. Tlic iMavtnly i.iid civil jn>,tice 
arc :ilso vd-v unlike. We must therefore note, thiil tlic wlu.lc Icjiiuln^ry, or 8ci'-nce 
of the Iiealluiiisli iiiiures, llion^li formerly aceoniilrd heavenly, has now no relation 
to (he son!, hnt to the moral virUies and merits of men. 

L I MS Iheii in<|nire, with reverence, what are Christian emblems, and what pro- 
fane or heatheiiisli ; iisinij,- in spiritnal representations nolhinj; but what is pure and 
heavenly, and in the .worldly, all that is proper to them, in order to gain the esteem 
both of reliijions and worldly persons. 

A passage in Scripture mentions the driving Luvifcr and his companions out of 
heaven ; whence we may plainly conclude, that those monsters aflerAvards fell to the 
share of the heathen, as no longer pertaining to the saints, liut we do not find after 
that tin)e, any more such nnrnly spirits were e,\j)elled heaven, wherefore we are not 
allowed to represent more such instances. But in the case of men seen to battle the 
true faith, things may be accompanied and represented with heathenish emblems, be- 
cause, as is said, the heathens gave themselves up to the devil; the better by that 
means to express their error and .shew the truth, thus also driving them out of heaven. 

It is, upon occasion, likewise not improper or disiigreeing with the pharisees or hy- 
pocrites; but has a greater weight in tictitious stories or parables. Nor can we, 
without ofl'ence, introduce other endjlems than Christian-like, when they only tend 
to incite to salvation. In which case wo may represent angels or spirits, to keep those 
hypocrites out oi heaven. 

In true profane histories, as the Roman, Grecian, and others, this management 
would be improper, but we may lawfully use hieroglyphic and other characters, of 
which there is an infmity ; for instance, by a religions person, a white garment, or an 
offering cup ; by a cruel one, a tiger's skin, or dragon, either on his helmet or shield. 
It would be preposterous to place a vestal virgin by Numa Pompilius, in order to 
shew his religious character, or Achilles by Alexander to express his valour, or a 
Heixnlcs by Milo; and still more ridiculous to set a Hercules l)y Hercules to pour- 
tray strength, or a fool by Alomvs to exhibit folly. It would, I say, be very ridi- 
culous to explain Ovid by emblems, seeing he gives us nothing but emblems. This 
would be a seeking light w ith light, or enlightening darkness with dark clouds. We 
want not another sun for expressing the suns light. But tliese representations and 
by-works must only tend to the exhibiting invisible things by visible objects. 

The more noble and lofty the things we are to represent, the more valuable ought 
to be the emblems we chuse for them ; for instance, in expressing the nature and 
<piality of the deities, we use young and chaste virginity, a state in all ages account- 
ed the most rare and valuable ; but in representing the passions of men, we make 



112 Of the Paint iiig of Ceilings, ov Plafonds. 

use of beasts, or else iiianinialo iliaiartors and oltjects; for being of a lower rank 
than the deities, they must also l)ear lesser objects. 

Jf now it should be oi)jeeted, because I represent Eternity by a serpent, and the 
Purity of the deities by a lamb, that this is contradictory to my oAvn position; I be- 
lieve, with respect to the former, that any person will be of my mind, on a fair cousiil- 
tation of the most ancient heatlu'uisli representation of it; and, as to the latter. Scrip- 
ture and chieMy the Revelation of <S'/. Jo//w, in many passages exhibits the person of 
Christ in the form of a lamb, and as the Lamb of God. Now, since all this has a hi- 
eroglyphic meaning, why should not I be allowed to fetch my emblematical thoughts 
from so pure and rich a fountain of wisdom? Thus 1 deport myself with respect to 
other such objects which represent some quality of the deity; but those of later in- 
vention, 1 endeavour, in this case, to avoid as much as possible. 

Moreover, Scripture, in many places, delivers itself in hieroglyphic terms ; com- 
paring Anger to a bear bereft of its cubs, Meekness to a lamb. Innocence to a dove, 
Subtilty to a serpent, &c. 



CHAP. XII. 

DISQUISITION TOUCHING THE REPRESENTATION OF THE TRINITY. 



IVXanv will think this subject beyond the reach of what we have hitherto handled, 
and inconsistent witii art ; but I am of a contrary oj)inion : for a tender-hearted 
artist has, on account of the many difl'erences among Christians, reason to be la 
concern for this point, since so many occurrences offer in scripture, where the Al- 
nii,"htv is either acting in some form about mankind, or is passing by as a glory, to 
make his presence known. 

The greatest part of Christendom {Holland, England, and a part of Germany ex- 
cepted), allow, with one accord, the representation of the persons in the Trinity; as 
first, God the Father, in the shape of an old man, with a long grey beard and hair: 
secondly, Jesus Christ, as he appeared in his humanity ; and thirdly, God the Holy 
Ghost, in the shape of a dove, in which shape he descended on Jesus Christ at the 
time of his baptism. 

Now if, according to the letter of scripture, I were to represent Adam and Eve, I 
find it necessary to exhibit the Creator of the world, and Maker of Adam, in a 
visible shape, since it is written, that he made Adam of the dust of the ground, 
and breathed into him the breath of life. Now, he who is to make something, or 
breathe into something, must, humanly speaking, have both hands and mouth. 



Of the Painting of CeiUnqs, or Plafonds. 1 13 

As soriptiirp also commonly xliews us an apprehensive «mality of the Alrnijrhty, 
why sliould I bo more (Milpahle for reprosenthn^ liim iiiuler thr sainr, than inidcr 
that of a triaui^h; siirroiindcil with a j-lory, antl containinj; hoiih- Hebrew ietten? 
Yet our divines are of opinion that this last is allowable, but not the former. Is not 
then the one a n^nre as well as tin; oth» r? Or do tlu- Jewish charaeteis, or the in- 
animate shape of a triangle, make any alteration? 

Besides these reasons, does not a pictnre tend as well to instruction as a well- 
digested speech, wherein the orator, in order to be understood, is obliged to use a 
fignral way of expression by parables? Or as a writing, wherein we find the same 
method for understanding it? Since the aim of both is, by the perception of the 
hearers, to make their discourses have an impression on their minds. Even the 
writing containing the mailer, does it not consist of letter-figures, which, by a cer- 
tain method of niid< istanding, we comprehend ? For it is not the matter itself 

I think, that the learned world and artists represent the first person of the Tiinity 
rather in the shape of a man, than of any other creature, on good reasons; for we 
learn from scripture, that God created and made man in his own image ; and from 
the anci< lit fathers, that man is an epitome of all that God created ; who is therefore 
called the little world : some even call man the master-[)i( ce of God. We ought, 
therefore, if we will take some likeness from the creatures, to express the Almighty 
by the most fierfeet idea to be found, in order to exhibit his perfection, and thus to 
make the eo|)y, in the best manner, like the original : and the more, as scripture, in 
several |)laces, makes mention of the head, eyes, ears, mouth, lips, arms, feet, li-.mds, 
and other members of God : which things must not be understood in a carnal and 
literal sense (according to the opinions of some ignorant people, who iiiiagine God, 
in his nature, to be like a man; that he sits in heaven on a throne, according to a 
pass ige in Isaiah. " The heaven is my throne, and the earth is my foot-stool." And 
as in another place the same prophet says, '♦ I saw the Lord sitting on a high throne, 
and lifted up," but in a fignral and spiritual sense: I think, then, that a painter has 
BO nearer expressions, in such representations where God himself is acting, than to 
exhil)it his figure in a human shape, as best agreeing with those likenesses. We paint 
him aged, in order to shew his majesty and wisdom, which are more to be found in 
old age than youth ; and with a sceptre and globe, and ja circle of stars about his 
head, to shew his omnipotence both in heaven and on earth. But Roman Catholics 
daily make additions. 

If the scripture represent his godly person under a mysterious sense, why may not 
the artist be allowed to do the same? Do we not read in the Revelation yibzi '\s 
mentioned of God in a human shape ? Is it not plain enough ? Or must it be object- 
ed, that this description is apocryphal ? But granting it, the relation, nevertheless, 

VOL. II. « 



1 14 Of the Pal/iting of CeUhiga, or Plafonds. 

is uot accounted iiealheiiish. Any doubf, whicli might arise from it, does not affect 
the point with respect to shapes. In another place we find, that the High-priest hid 
himself, tliat he might not behold the Lord; but the Lord put a finger on his eyes 
till he was past by. How can I represent that passage without a body ? or is it no 
fact? The propliel Jsaia/i says, " Behold the name of the Lord comes from far; 
his lips are full of indignation, and his tongue as a devouring lire." Now, to make 
this known to a person who cannot read, and is deaf, is it not more easy to do it by a 
representation, than by signs? Are we to make only a mouth sending forth a flame? 
Is this so proper for such a mans apprehension as a whole figure? Moreover, is not 
a mouth a likeness and a figure, as well as a whole image? What then are they 
pretending, who allow one part of the crime, and not the whole? If it be a crime, let 
it be entirely forbidden; and if good, or at least sufterable, entirely allowed, and 
performed. Nevertheless, we must not bow before these things, much less worship 
them, but the true God only, who is thereby meant. Can we observe a sacrifice 
otherwise? Is not that a mysterious represeutation, or, in better terms, a figural de- 
mousti-ation, when it is said, " The sacrifice was burning upon the altar, and the 
children of God were bowing before it, praying, beseeching, and giving thanks in all 
submission r 

Scripture, in several places, speaks of the appearing of God to men, either really 
by the ministry of angels, or iu a vision by dreams, or by extasies. There is so fine 
a description of God, under the shape of an old man, in the seventh chapter of 
Daniel, that no artist can better represent it. The same scripture also mentions 
several appearances of angels in human shapes : for which reason, the church, in the 
second council of Nice, made no ditiiculty in allowing artists to do it ; and chiefly 
painters, to represent God the Father, as a kind, loving old man, and the angels in a 
human shape. vp.. 

It seems also, that a painter has the privilege to paint and represent inanimate 
things as, living, according to the ideas which scripture affords hira: and the 
spectator must not be offended, when, in some pictures, he finds sacred subjects at- 
tended with poetical fictions, for their better explanation ; on a supposition the latter> 
be impious. Are not the Pmdmsoi David, .S'w/o/wo«'a Song, and the book oi Job 
and the Revelation of St. John the Divine, all delivered under poetic figures ? not to 
speak of tlie parables besides, mentioned in Scripture, 

Painters therefore are not blame-worthy, for bringing in something that is heathen- 
ish, in order to clear the matter ; and especially if the fact happened in an heathen- 
ish country. Thus the great JtupUad, in his passage of the children of Israel o\er 
Jordan, has represented the river under a human shape, violiently turning the water 
back towards its source. 



Of llie Painting of Ceilings^ or Vlofondx. 115 

As scripture often Jays down such and the like things under some figural de- 
scriptions, il i;iv<s painters full lihcrty to do the same: since, in order to accom- 
modate itself to the weak apprehensions of men, it usually delivers many of the 
grealcst mysteries under figures and parables; as it speaks of the rivers, in Psalm 
xcviii. 8. 

Poussin also made no scruple in his picture of the finding of Moses, to exhibit 
therivtr yiile by an human figure. But there were calumniators in his time as well 
as there are now. lie was cliarged with atheism, for mixing truth with lies, and 
having no more regard for either, liiaii to treat them alike. Yet, if we look nearer 
into tliis matter, we shall l)e convinced, that the learned painter was not in the 
least tinctured M'ith atheism. Did it not happen in heathenish JEgypt ? Was not 
Pliarttoli's daughti r present ? Did she: believe the truth, wiiich was only mani- 
fested to Janui/ Certainly ^he did not. Since therefore the fact lay in an heathen- 
ish country, and was (lone ill the presence of but two Hebrew women, tiie others 
being Elkmcks, this great artist has not trespassed either against the Christian Faith, 
or against the art. 

And idtliough, at the first view, a well-grounded objection may be, that with 
things whi(;h relate to religion, no false gods or deities, worshipped by the hea- 
thens, ought to be mixed, ami that it is sufficient for a painter to represent a river 
in ils natural course, and not in an human form, yet the objection is easily an- 
swered ; for scripture re|)iesents the waters, and the noise of rivers, under au 
human form, as in Psalm xc,viii. where it is said, That they clapped their hands 
and were joyful. Moivover, the. JEgi/pUatis never worshipped the rivers, but the 
crocodiles li\ing in them, and Isis, under the shape of a cow, as Ot'iVf and other 
■writers testify. 

Since then scrii)tures makes use of allegorical speeches, a painter may ahso ex- 
hibit his subject under symbolical and perceptible likenesses, in order to be the 
more intelligible to the spectator, without fear that his work will mislead faithful 
Christians, or strengthen heathenish superstition; for a painter, who has no other 
language to express himself by but by ligurcs, ought to make use of them, if he 
would, be iinderstood. 

.'uS^ubens, who, of all the painters handled those symbolical figures in the most 
agreeable and le^irned manner (as we may particularly observe in the Cardinal In- 
fanls entry into Antiverp, and in the paintings of the Luxcmhurgh gallery) is taxed 
by some with mixing, lin those compo.sitions, truth with fictions ; but how easily is 
tMs judgment to be refuted, by shewing the use that judicious artist made thereof: 
for fiction is here not at all mingled with truth, but only tends to make truth clear 
.:,•',! <Av\ fi (■• ^ 2 



Il6 Of ill e Taiutins; of Ceilings, or Vlnfonils. 

to sight and nppnlicnsioii, and thus more plainly to express it by the fictitious cha- 
racters and emblems. 

I pray observe, iu his birth of the French King, Louis XIII. how that excellent 
artist has exhibited Castor with an artfid sway, on distant clouds, sitting ou his 
winged horse, and opposite to him Apollo, who, in his radiant chariot, is driving 
upwards, in order to shew that this prince was happily born in the morning. Here- 
by it is evident, that this ingenious master had no thoughts of representing deities 
as deities, but only to denote, by CWor (as accounted u happy constellation) the 
king's fortunate birth, and by Apollo the time of the day, which was in the morn- 
ing, appearing by his chariot's mounting up from the horizon. 

But, further to clear ray thoughts touching the representation of God the Father, 
I shall, before I end this chapter, subjoin the following observation. 

The prophet Ezekiel, in his fii'st chapter, mentions, that he saw the Almighty 
from the appearance of his loins even upwards, and from the appearance of his 
loins even downwards, as it were the appearance of tire, and it had brightness 
round about. Wherefore, by this and other instances of scripture, we suppose, 
that this sacred ligure ought never to be represented without a glittering or glory 
from head to foot ; even in such manner, that, l>igger or less, according to the 
place, occasion, and decorum, and spreading around gradually thinner and fainter, 
like a clear and transparent vapour, it at last insensibly unites with the by-works, 
and disappears. 

Now, to reduce this to a painting, we ought first to design the figure of the Al- 
mighty, whether sitting or standing, in heaven or on earth, in the most perfect 
form and countenance, yet much larger than any heavenly or earthly creature. 
This you must colour with a single tint or ground, a little darker than the glory, 
and afterwards heighten with light. Then, with a large brush, soften the figure, 
so that neither its out-line, nor any edginess or sharpness of the parts of the face, 
hands, or feet (which ought to be touched very gentle and faint) be perceived; just 
as if it were viewed through a silk gause, steamed glass, or thin mist: in short, 
like things seen in a Camera Obscura, observing that the figure do not receive any 
light either from on high, or from aside, or from behind, but in front only and 
about the most relieved parts, although the whole piece have another light; 
it must moreover have no other shades than in the deepest cavities, and those 
\ery faint. 

We have before cursorily shewed, why we represent the Almighty as a venerable 
old man ; and shall now further insist on the point, though without reference 
to all the passages in scripture which might serve our purpose. In Daniel, chap. 
vii. 9, it is written. The hair of his head is like pure wool, and his garment 



Of I lie Painting of Ceilings, or Vhifoivh. 117 

wliit-c as snow. Tlic reason wlirrcof says Grcs^orius Naziuuzenus, is (o .slirw 
thereby, as by an infallible token, his clean and nndefibfl Bein<,^ Wherefore the 
wise Etisclienis is also of opinion, tliat, for the same reason, the choir and multi- 
tude of ani;(ls are rcpn^si iited in white. Others com]>are it to tlie human shape, 
and would th<!reby allude to infinite duration, siiicf; nothing is so eternal as the 
Godhead ; which I remark here, because some scrnpulous persons are of opinion, 
that we ouj;lit not to represent God the Father in such a shape, adorned with white 
garments and lii-ey hair. 

And on this account all nations have, ])y an universal consent, thought proper to 
perform divine service in white garments and ornaments. The white has also been 
at all times appropriated to the holy service, wherefore the poet Persius says, He is 
worship]>ed in white. 

But what is Persius s saying to us, since the raiment of Jesu^ Christ, when he 
manifested his glory to his disciples, appeared as white as snow ? Cicero, Lib. 2. 
Leguin, says. The white looks best in all stuffs, but especially in the woven ones, 
in order to exhibit what is holy and godly. 

It is therefore necessary to represent the Almighty in a white garment : however 
it is not improper, to make it look more natural, that you keep it a little yellowish, 
as lighted by a sun, or like the glory which surrounds the figure. 

But in all this a painter must be very discreet, and not abuse the licence allowed 
him by scripture and the consent of the fathers, or, by his art, pervert the sacred 
truths or slight them. 



CHAP. XIII. 

OF THE GLORIES PROPER TO ANGELS AND HEATHENISH DEITIES. 

XlAViNG shewed in what manner, and on what terms, according to my judg- 
ment, to represent the Almighty; let us now inquire how the angels, in their power, 
ought to be exhibited. 

G-regorus Nazianzemis says, that the true property of the angels, when they ap- 
pear in a bodily shape, is to have a bright glory and glittering garments. We find 
the angels thus described in Matt, xxviii. 3; in Mark xvi. 5; in Acts i. 10; and 
many other places of scripture. 

This glittering light of the angels ought therefore by all means to be observed in 
most of ther appearances ; as for instance in those to Abraham, and in the deliver- 
ing Lot out of Sodom, where they smote the lustflil people with bliuduess ; for 



118 Of the Paini'mg of Ceilings, or P/afonds. 

it is certain they had something more than human, since Ahniham salutes them 
as lords. It is not likely tliat this honour proceeded from their cosily dress, jewels, 
and other precious things about them, but from some heavenly or uncommon ad- 
dition. 

A further proof of this glory of the angels, is the sore pressing of the Sodomites 
upon Lot, and their not coveting either him or his daughters, or any other strangers 
probably living among then), but only these two young men to be brought out in 
order to know them; and, perhaps, because of their more than human form and 
charming brightness. If now this glory had shone too strong, they would have 
perceived some deity, and forbore their wickedness ; for it cannot be imagined, that 
any man should daringly and knowingly strive against the Almighty. 

But before we proceed further, 1 must here deliver my opinion concerning the per- 
son of Jesus Christ; which is, that in his humanity .and before his resurrection, he 
ought to be represented without the least shining or glory ; since he was made in 
the likeness of men, and would be like his brethren in all things, except sin, as scripr 
ture testifies : but, after his resurrection, he would be shewn with a glory (as we read 
he appeared to his disciples on mount Tabor, and in other places) as having then put 
off his humanity in its principal purpose. Now to proceed. 

We have further instances of the appearance of angels, as in those who came to 
ManoaJi, Gideon, and Tobit, and him who smote the ^eo\i\c oi Jerusalem for Da- 
vid's sin, &c. Of the first, scripture expressly says, that he, foretelling Manoah 
the birth of Samson, ascended in the flame of the altar; possibly in augmeniation of 
glory, uniting with the flame of the offering, by which doubling brightness, the pa- 
rents of Samson were strengthened in their faith and hope of the birth to come. 

If this glory now be painted too strong and like lightning, it blinds our mortal 
eyes, and thus the patriarch Abraham could have viewed it no more than the pro- 
phet and leader of Israel, Moses, when God appeared to him and passed before his 
face: and this glory would destroy a beholder. 

The blind heathens had glimmerings of this truth; for when Semcle presumptuously 
desired, that Jupiter might once embrace, her in tliC' same majesty as he did Juno 
in heaven, and insisted on it, notwithstanding his dissuasion to the con;r.,ry, she was, 
on the request granted, entirely consunied by the attending glory of the God, inso- 
much that with difficulty he saved the child he had by her. . • 

Whence it is plain, that the glory, even in exhibiting the heathenishi deities, ought 
to be observed ; since in their appearance to men, either by night or day, to bless 
or punish them, they retained their full force, glory, and majesty ; and this being 
weighed, they must also be represented glittering, beautiful in aspect and shape, 
and in raiment of an elegant colour, as much as possible, and the nature aud use of 



Of the Paintini! nf Ccilhii^s or Tlnfonds. 1 19 

the picture will permit ; as we lirivc? hrforo liinti-d in the inanaj^oineiit of roIonrH in 
oeiling pieces. 

But when the deities ajjpear amoiijL? men, as men, then they onijhttolte like Mieiii, 
and not easily disfinj^uisliahlc, otherwise than hy their mien; as, for instanee, in the 
story of Jupiter with Calislu, Apollo with Uap/nie, Jupiter with Lycaon, Mercury 
with Argils, and the like: in such cases, and that they niii^ht the better play their 
parts, they transformed themselves entirely into men, and were i)erfectly like (hem, 
laying aside all god-like glory and shape; as if, according to the opinion of the hea- 
thens, they meant that there could be no union of the divine w ith human nature. 

As to the motions of the heathenish deities, many represent them appearing in 
active postures, as walking, running, and other motions ; but it is as contrary to my 
own opinion, as that of the great bishop of IJippo, Heliodonis. This learned man, 
and great searcher into heathenish antiquities, will not allow them to go or walk, 
■when seen in their majesty, but only to wave, or seem in some measure to walk, 
yet gliding like a ship moved gently along by the wind, without perceptible motion : 
they ought always to be set out with thin clouds, of which such as are nearest them 
receive a srrcater and stronger lioht. 



CHAP. XIV. 

*'''6f tiik kt;presentations of angels and heathenish genu. 

J. HE Almighty, in the beginning, created an infinite number of angels or heavenly 
spirits, who in Scripture are distinguished by names ; as seraphins, cherubins, 
thl-bnes, powers, arch-angels, angels, &c. 

The first, as being nearest to the glory of the Almighty, are always represented 
young and harmless, and with six wings, according to Isaiah, ch. vi. 

The second are exhibited only for the sake of motion, and to denote the efficacy 
of eternal happiness, which their undefiled purity and childish form give to un- 
derstand. 

The third, who continually attend God's justice (as Dionysius Areopagiia, St. 
Paul's disciple, writes), are somewhat older, and more full-grown, and of an agree- 
able sway and motion ; causing, by their appearances, no fear or fright, but joy 
and gladness in people's minds. 

The fomth are appointed to execute divine vengeance, in the punishment of sins 
aud wickedne!«C' ; of these one was so strong, that, with the Almighty's permission, 
he smote in the camp of the Assyrians 185,000 men, 2 Kings xix ; 2 Chron. xxxii ; 



120 Of the Painting of CeilingSy or Plafonds. 

Isaiah xxxvii. Tliese are represented larger than the former, having stern coun- 
tenances and violent motions ; are seldom or ever naked, bnt in coats of armour, 
and with a flaming sword or thunder in tlieir hands, or else a shield on thier arms,, 
with the name of Clod glitterins;- thereon. By their unexpected appearance they 
cause not only fear and fright in the wicked, but a continual remorse without re- 
pentiuiee. 

The iifth manage great and courtly aO'airs; as guardians, leading men to the 
knowledge of God: they are of a perfect form and modest countenance. 

The last protect us from all hurt, and are particularly ordained to excite us to 
virtue, and dissuade us from «'vil, Ads xii. These, according to Dioiiysius, as being 
the eldest in the lowest choir or hierarchy, are represented of a large size, ma- 
jestic, and quick in motion. 

There is still another kind, called e\il spirits, or dcemones, or devils : Plato calls 
them cacodtBinoiics, or knowing and crafty. These alllict the wicked, and induce 
them to all manner of sin, as blasphemy, unchasteness, gluttony, drunkenness, lying, 
defrauding, murder, &c. Their shapes are various, even as many as there are 
sins; and although they endeavour sometimes to mislead men under beautiful ap- 
pearances, yet they are always represented by some token whereby to know them, 
either on their heads, backs, hands, or feet, such as fins, bats wings, vultures or 
eagles' claws, bears paws, dragons tails, &c.; also holding lighted torches, pitch- 
forks, purses, murdering weapons, crowns, fetters, yokes, serpents and adders, 
and with flames issuing out of their mouths ; in a word, any thing that betokens 
evil. 

As to the angels before mentioned, who in all ages have been represented with 
wings, scripture allows us the liberty so to exhibit them ; for the Almighty himself 
shewed Mosrs the pattern of the Ark of the Covenant, and the cherubins in this 
manner upon it. Can any example be more perfect than his ? More instances in 
scripture may be found in the prophecies of Daniel, chap. ix. 21 ; Isaiah vi. Rev. iv. 
Ezekiel x. &c.* 

Having thus far treated of the representation of angels we shall now shew the 
opinion of the heathens, not ill agreeing with the same moaning. 



* It will he evident that the author of this work was a member of the Popish Church, 
and has therefore written the precedmg remarks under the influence oj its particular 
tenets. I recommend the student to consult upon these points a most elegant French 
work, entitled, " Erreurs des Peintres.' I have placed a copy of this work in the 
library of the Royal Institution. E. 



Of the V dinting of Ceilings^ or Vlafonds. 121 

Plutarch tells iis, lli:it the ancient Romans had also their tutelar guardians, l»y 
tilt 111 styled fi^eiiii, or hiilh-gods ; but they were not represented as aiigeh, or sittiii^c 
upon clouds, or with wiiifjs or glories, but as well-shaped young men between six- 
teen iiiid twenty years ot a^c, and without beards, having lon^- litjlit hair, composeU 
eounteiianres and easy motions, and a dog's skin over their upper jiarts. 

The reason of this clotiiing was, as Chrifnippua saye, that they, as good spirits, 
attend us from our nativities, being guardians of our actions, in reproving vice and 
revenging transgressions, as often as we prefer brutality before humanity, which the 
genii al)horied, pursuing and barking at us, in order to awake the conscience. Of 
which opinion is Censorintis, and several others whom he quotes: adding, that these 
spirits watch so narrowly, that they never leave us, inciting us to virtue, in pro- 
portion as we forsake vice and covet felicity. But wl>y need we these examples? 
Our Saviour affirms, that the angels have charge over us, to conduct and preserve 
us, as we have before said ; wherefore the heathens, by this emblem, liave also rightly 
styled their genii, guardians. 

Censoriiins likewise testifies, that the ancieRts considered their genii as gods of pro- 
creation, either that, as we have said, they took care of us, or were born with us ; 
for which reason, they believed there were as many genii as men, and tliat eacli had 
his own : or else that there were twice as many, and that each flian had a good one 
and an evil one ; the former persuading to virtue, and the latter to vice, agreeable to 
what Christians say of their guardian angels and the devil, this last not failing to 
afflict mankind, though not born with us, as the heathens believed of their genii. 
Hence it is, that some represent the genii in the shape of a serpent, others as chil- 
dren or young men, or else as grey-headed old men, conformable to the philosopher 
Cebes in his hieroglyphical table. 

Zoroaster and the ancient philosophers have made a distinction between the ani- 
mals consecrated to the good and evil genii ; according to them, dogs, fowls, and 
the tortoise are proper to the good, and water animals peculiar to the evil. 

The ancients often exhibited the genii crowned with garlands of horehound, the 
leaves whereof much resemble those of the vine, or else with chaplets of divers 
sorts of flowers ; as TibuUus in a certain place says, " The genius is adorned w ith 
a beautiful chapletof tlowers, when his name and festival are celebrated to his ho- 
nour." 

Each person worshipped his genius without knowing it, in celebrating his birth- 
day, and those of prini,'es were especially kept by everybody with great splendour; 
wherefore he who falsely swore by the genius of his prince (which was accounted 
a very great oath) was an immediate delinquent. 

Since, as it is said, the ancients had two kinds of genii, a good one and an evil 

VOL, II. R 



1S2 Of the Painting of Ceilings, or Plafonds. 

one, according to the Socratic Euclid, as Censorinus relates, we shall new consider 
how the evil were represented. 

I do not find the ancients had any statues or resemblances of them ; but we read, 
as writers testify, that they appeared to many. 

Plutarch, Appiamis, Florvs, and others report, that as Brutus one night (accord- 
ing to his custom) had betaken himself, with a light, to his apartment for medita- 
tion, he saw before him the likeness of a man, but very frightful, black and clothed 
in a wolfs skin; who being asked, who he was? answered, I am thy evil genius, 
Srutus ! Valerius Maximus also writes, that the evil genius appeared to Cassius, 
of the cursed tribe of Marcus Antonius, a little before Ccesar caused him to be be- 
headed. This genius appeared as a large black man, about fifty or sixty years of 
age, having long hair, and a dirty matted beard, and was covered with a wolfs skia 
down lialf way the thighs. 

The Temesians, formerly inhabitants of Abruzzo, a country in Italy, had also a 
very evil genius, of a black colour and frightful look, and clothed in a wolf's skin, 
doing that people much damage; SisPausanias and Sziidas testify. 



CFIAP. XV. 

OF S.'VCRED EMBLEMS. 

Xhe design of a well-composed sacred emblem is principally to edify, and to incite 
to virtue ; representing it to us as a looking glass, not so much for the regulation of 
our bodies as our souls, and by such means to bring us to happiness. 

These emblems are either general or particular: general, when they suit any per- 
son whatsoever ; and particular, when they relate to one only. When their subject 
is piety or virtue, learning, liberty, peace of mind, and such like, they are general, 
and applicable to every person who possesses, or endeavours to possess, those qua- 
lities: but whtn a particular person is their subject, as tlie\irgin Mary, an apostle, 
or other virtuous man, who excelled in some particular gift, in such case tliey are 
particular or singular. We ought, therefore, in the former sort, to observe, that 
the main matter is spiritual ; and, in the latter, corporal : the one exhibits learning 
itself, and the other a learned man or philosopher ; one shews Peace, and the other 
a peaceable man ; one represents Piety, and the other a pious man, &c. The 
one is the matter itself, and the other he v/ho possesses it. However, a judicious 
master will make a distinction between spiritual and corporal virtues, between natu- 
ral inclinations and heavenly gifts. The corporal, as strength, prudence, eqility. 



Of the Paintinq of Ceilings, or Plafonds. 125 

and (lie like, proceed from us, or, in ]>oiU:r teriii.s, are peculiar to us, walk, stand, 
and act with us; and the spiritual and heavenly, and wliich consequently have no 
relation with the body, are as without us ; wherefore they must be represented either 
sittinf? or lyinu; on clouds, and the nearer they approacli beatitude, the more {,ditler- 
ing, nimble, faint, and waving they are to be exhibited. 

I am of opinion that we ought to adapt particular sorts of stufts to the aforesaid 
virtues and qualities, according to their ranks and dignities ; as, to clothe ihe earthly 
in stuffs and cloth, and in thick silk ; and those still higher, in gause scarfs, or eUie 
to let tliem remain naked. 

We must further remark on the last of these, that the characters called the quali- 
ties of Qod, I mean ligural characters, such as the eye, iipplying Dominion ; the cir- 
cled serpent, Eternity ; the sun. Glory ; and such like, ought always to appear in the 
uppermost glory, as pertaining to the Deity, and are represented by lovely waving 
children. Yet let it be observed, that those things oidy respect the bles.-<ings of hea- 
ven ; for, when the Almighty is provoked, and is to inflict punishments, we must in- 
troduce other qualities, such as his wrath, justice, &c. also represented by angels, 
with thunder, fiery swords, scales, &c. but these ought to be stronger and like young 
men ; as we find it in Scripture, in the story of Lot, where they struck the Sodomites 
with blindness ; and in that of Seniiacherib, where an angel of the Lord in one night 
smote so many thousands, and more such cases. 

I shall illustrate what I have before said by further examples, in such manner as 
I apprehend the point; and for that purpose have chosen an uncommon subject, to 
serve for a particular 

Emblem and stately '^lonument of her Majesty, Mary Stuart, late Queen of Great 
Britain, France, atid Ireland, Princess of Orange. 

Here a tomb is standing on the left side of the piece, on a basement whereon is 
carved the river-god of the Thames. In the middle of the piece, on the second ground 
a princess is sitting in grandeur on a throne, representing England with its proper 
badges. She leans her head on her left hand, and with her right opens the royal 
robe of the deceased, which is lined with ermine, and with the sceptre and crown 
lies in her lap, whereon she casts a sorrowful look ; she is covered with a black gause 
weed, which darkens the glitter of the seat and coat of arms. Pohcy, on her left side, 
quite dejected, is beholding the tomb, accompanied by Sorrow. On the other side 
appears the Protestant Church, languishing, supported by Hope, who points at the 
tomb, whereon stands a large beautiful antique vase, out of w hich is growing a rose- 
twig having but one bud, whereon Providence, sitting on clouds, dispenses some 
moisture out of a small crystal phial, and with her sceptre points 4ipwards at the ce- 



124 Of the Painting of Ceilings, or Plafonih. 

lestial light, to which Wisdom, Piety, and Stedfastness are seen flying", supporting', 
or rather carrying a beautiful young virgin along \villi them. This virgin is dressed 
in white and crowned with roses, having a bright star over her head ; her hands are 
across her breast, and she is looking upwards with a joyful countenance. On high 
appears God's Love or Tenderness, waiting for her with open arms, having in its 
lap a pelican feeding ils young with its own blood. The other characters of divine 
Happiness before-mentioned are also seen, and especially heavenly or perfect Joy or 
Harmony, represented by spirits singing and playing on instruments. On the vase 
is a medal, wherein is carved a phoenix arising out of its ashes. Under it, on a black 
table, is written in gold letters, either in Latin or English, I UIE IN ORDER TO 
LIVE. The tomb is hung with festoons of cypress, intermixed with roses. On the 
right side of the tomb stands Fate, having in the left hand a rose close to the vase, 
and in the right a pair of scissors, as if she had cut off the rose with them. On the 
left sight of the tomb stands nature, dejectedly holding a handkerchief before her 
eyes, and w ith the left hand at her breast. Envy, to the right forwards, is taking to 
flight, biting a heart, and looking either at Providence or at the beautiful soul a.s- 
cending. About the throne stand Scotland, France, and Ireland, in mourning. 

A Second Example. 

Here we may represent Majesty on a raised throne, sitting in full splendour ; Cle- 
mency and Authority standing behind her, and holding over her head a crown top- 
ped with a glittering star. On her side may sit Religion, and on a step below Po- 
licy taking shelter under her garment. Quiet, Plenty, and Success by land and sea, 
may be placed as coming in ; and, on the other side, Peace accompanied by Art and 
Science. Above, in an open heaven, sits Providence pouring down divine Blessing. 
Over the throne, on a cloud, should be Wisdom, Religiousness, and Stedfastness. 

This Majesty may be here the subject of this emblem, and, if it have no particular 
characters, suit any kingdom, power, or commonwealth in Christendom; but if it 
have any arms, device, or motto, as SUFFICIT UNUS. or a flower-de-luce for 
France; PLUS ULTRA for Spain; HONI SOIT QUI MAL Y PENSE for 
England; then this Majesty ought to be like that which it is to represent. 

It would not be improper to see the glory filled with Divine Love or Kindness as 
before-mentioned, and Prosperity flowing from it. Fright and Fear taking to flight, 
and Envy, Fraud, and Heresy under Majesty's feet. 

The active Virtues I represent by figures, which hold the crown over Majesty's* 
head, and those sitting on clouds, &c. 

A Third Example. 

The subject of this shall be Innocence murdered. 



Of the Painting of Ceilings, or Vlafonds. 125 

Hero Innocence is prostrate, mnrrferpd hy ragtnf^ Impiefy. She lies near an ex- 
tinguisliecl altar, stretched out on llie ground, clothed in a ci< ati white garment, 
betokening: an upright iindefiled heart. The cruel executioner forcibly tearn her in- 
nocent child from her breast, and at the same time the brutish nnnderer is stepping 
from tlie eminence whereon he sat, in order to go off; he is stained with innocent 
blood, and, slieatliing his hloody sword, tramples under foot a pelican with its young. 
Rage attending him, and firing them w ith her torch, is looking back in great conster- 
nation at Heaven, which darts many thimders at Iier. There Divine Justice is des- 
cending, with scales in one hand and thunders in the other. Piety, bowing before 
her at the altar, is praying and shewing her the innocent corpse; -whereupon she 
doubles her speed to execute revenge. Now see the wrath of God expressed, not 
with bright sun-beams from on high, but with fiery and bloody ones. 

Here Justice, or divine Wrath, has a flaming red garment or veil. Impiety is 
clothed in a rusty copper-coloured drapery. The Executioner, who misuses the .^ 
child, has a cruel aspect, and is reddish. Over Innocence a litlle.angel is ascending • 
to heaven with a bright star, to which a long ray seems to proceed out of her mouth ; 
he has a palm branch in his hand, to signify her happiness. 

The following is a short sketch of the actions. 

The head of the corpse lies on the middle of the piece on the fore-ground, and the 
feet towards the right side, somewhat nearer to the altar, with one leg a little up, as 
if there were still some life left. Behind the altar Piety kneels on one knee, which 
is in shade, she receiving her light from Justice, who, on the second ground, is with 
her upper parts directly over the point of sight, and her feet somewhat fore-shortened 
towards the right side, from whence she is coming. On the left side, on the same 
ground, a little more forward. Impiety and Rage take to flight. Rage is half-shaded 
by dark clouds, over which heaven opens. The fore-ground has a right light ; but 
Justice receives her light from behind. On the left side of the piece is a dark off"- 
scape. 

Now, as the former emblem represented the reward of virtue, so this represents 
the punishment of evil ; in that appeared the love of God, in this his wrath. 

Thus are my thoughts on these subjects, not presuming to have treated them w ith 
the utmost accuracy ; I am far from giving them out as perfect emblems, since that 
is the work of great judgment, \'ast knowledge, and mature consideration ; never- 
theless, rough as the plan is, it is sufficient for explaining my stntiments. And as 
we always attach ourselves either more or less to art, and hardly keep so much 
within the bounds of curiosity, as not to take some liberties in the disposition of 
things, so I have represented him who is taking away the child, as an executioner, 
naked, his hair tied with a cloth, and with a dagger lying by him, and Impiousness^ 



126 Of the Painting of Ceilings, or Plafonds. 

as a prince, with a bloody diadem about his head, and a staff in his hand; though 
these figures ought to be women ; moreover, the executioner might have been left out. 



CHAP. XVI. 

OF THE PENATES, LARES, AND CUPIDS. 

Ancient histories relate, that most nations which lived under laws and policy, 
especially the Hebreus, Greeks, and Romans, but mostly these last, had certain 
figures of gold, silver, copper, or wood, which they styled Dii Penates — in English, 
household-gods. These they kept as hoh% and took such particular care of, that 
in case they happened to be lost, either through carelessness, violence, or other ac- 
cidents, they thought it foreboded some imminent disaster or bad luck to befal them; 
and accordingly believed, when any such were at hand, that those gods were either 
removing, or vanished. 

The historian Timceus writes, that they were represented like two beautiful young 
men in a warlike dress, each with a javelin in his hand, and by or near them an 
earthern fire-pan, over Avhich lay two long iron bars cross-ways, turned at the ends 
like the hazel wands which Augures held in their hands at the time of officiating. 

Cicero, treating of the Penates, says. They were certain gods brought forth in 
the houses of particular men, and worshipped in the most concealed and private 
places of them. And in this sense Demophoon and Terence spake, when they said, 
They would go home and hide their household gods, before they betook to their 
business and calling. 

In scripture also we have the Teraphiins, or household gods, which Rachel stole 
from her father Laban, when he went to sheer his sheep; as the Rabbi Eliezer, in 
the 3Gth chapter of his Discourses, largely treats, speaking o{ Laban, and the pre- 
paring of the Teraphims. 

We have before said, that the Penates were in great esteem among the Romans, 
which Diontfsins Halicarnassus affirms, saying, They were worshipped at Rome, 
under the shape of two sitting young men, in very ancient and warlike dresses, and 
having javelins in their hands, with this subscription, Dii Penates, as we find it still 
in ancient medals. Nigidiiis was of opinion, that they were Apollo and Neptune ; 
and tlie ratlier, as by Apollo is meant heat and drought, and by Neptune cold and 
moistness; judging the worship to own its origin from these effects: wherefore, Vir- 
gil in the Eighth Book of his JEneids, styles them the great gods, meaning the Pe- 
nates. Others think that Jupiter and Juno are signified by them, because their 



Of the Painting of Ceilings, or Plafonds. 137 

chief business was to give men help and assiHtaiice, ;in(l ihcnforo they both derive 
from the Latin word Juvare, sif^nifyinf? to help or iissist. (Jtlicrs attain imagine 
them to be Castor and Potlux, because they, wilh the P«;niites or iioiistliobi godn, 
were also according to the ancient poets and liistoriaiis, in very great esteem, and. 
the Roman worship assigned them the first places in iheir temples. 

It will here be proper to deduce something touching these gods from antiquity, 
the better to illustrate the point. 

We read, that when the daughter of Pullunies was married to Dardunus, sh«- 
brought in dower the gifts which Pullus had made her a present of, being an oblong 
shield, dropped from heaven (which she styh d Palladium), and the figures of the 
Penates, or great gods. Afterwards, on a rebellion breaking out in J*elopennesus, 
where Dardunus and his wife lived, he with many of the Arcadians fled trom thence, 
taking shipping for Samolliracia, where, in consideration of those gifts, brought as 
a portion, he built a temple, instituting private solemnities fur their religious wor- 
ship, keeping them from the eomujoii |)eopIe in a v;iuU under the ground ; and soon 
after, on his departure for Asia, took them with him, and placed them in Dardania, 
so called from bis name. His son Ilus being employed in building Ilium, or Troy, 
transplanted those gods thither. JEneas afterwards having saved them out of the 
flames of that city, carried them to Itali/, placing them in the city of Lavinium. 
Ascanivs, his son, removed them to the c\Xy of Alba, where he dedicated a large and 
raagnilicent temple to their honoiu". But they say, the gods of themselves, without 
human assistance, returned the next night to Taviniam, though the gates were fast, 
and the town -wall and roof of the temple found entire, and without any breaches. 
Which miracle very much surprising Ascanius, he sent to Livinium six hundred 
men, called Curatores, of whom Egestns was chief, to guard the gods. At last, 
being carried to Rome, they remained without any alteration, and the Roman peo- 
ple committing to them the care and protection of their city, and growing empire, 
placed them, in imitation of Ct/jy/mmm* (that they might not be stolen either by fraud 
violence), in a vault or temple under ground, .wherein, after consecration, they of- 
fered sacrifices to them, not allowing any person to spit in this temple, because the 
gods, like Vesta, were worshipped with i:re. 

They were represented as young men, and sitting m itii javelins in their hands, 
to signify their being adored as maintainers and protectors : for the sitting hiero- 
glyphically expresses, sted fastness in what we design to do: the javelins imply, that 
they preserve from harm and disaster ; and the youthfulness denotes the increase of 
their power. 

The Lares were much like the Penates, at least in the guard and care of cities. 
They also are said to have hid, or kept themselves secret in the houses, as well as 



128 Of the Tainting of Ceilings, or Plafonds. 

the Ponates : which TibttUus aflirms, saying, Tliat they have not only the care of 
particuUir lionses, but also of the whole town. 

The ancients used to place dogs to watch their idols, called Lares ; as being a 
creature kind and fawning on the family, and fierce and iiightful to strangers. 
They had the same opinion of their Lares, or housei)old gods, committing to them 
the entire care and safeguard of their families. For this reason, says Plutarch, the 
Romans represented them as brisk young men, dressed in dog-skins. Otv't/ aflirms, 
they were sometimes exhibited in short garments, gathered up on the left shoulder, 
and coming down under the right, in order to be more free and loose in their mo- 
tion, because, says he, their business was like that of the genii (mentioned before), 
to inquire narrowly into men's actions for the punishment of the wicked. The phi- 
losopher Jamblic/ius relates, that they were often worshipped on the roads, and had 
from time to time oflerings of wine and frankincense. 

We shall now treat of the shape of children, distinguishing them into heavenly 
and earthly. 

Poussin exhibited them too fleshy and full for flying, and those of Raphael are, 
generally, chiefly in the borders of the histories of Psyche, too hard and masculine; 
wherefore, to find a good form, we must keep a medium between both. But cupids 
ought not to be represented so heavy as earthly children, yet as young as you please. 
The earthly, contrarily, must have understanding, in order to be able to execute 
something, and their bodies to be enlarged according to what they are to do or 
carry. But in representing a Cupid, who is to deliver a message, I think it is proper 
to give him age and bulk enough to do the business punctually, and the better to 
express truth and nature. As to their wings, they must not be made in proportion 
to the weight of their bodies like birds, for their bodies wave of themselves, and the 
size of the wings often ci'eates deformity, unless they are to represent a Fame, when 
they ought to be larger. 

As to the Loves or Cupids themselves, they, according to my apprehension, difller 
as much in size as action. The one is, by the poets, called Cupid, and the other 
Anteros. The former creates love and desire for voluptuousness, and the latter 
leads to virtues, arts, and sciences. They have both a like beautiful and agreeable 
aspect according to their ages. Cupid is represented about six or eight years old, 
and quite naked, armed with a bow and arrows, and sometimes holding a burning 
torch. Anteros, contrarily, has a purple garment, with bare arms and legs only, a 
crown of laurel about his head, a burning torch in his hand, sandals on his feet, and 
he is ai)Out twelve or fourteen years of age. Cupid is wild and frolicsome, Anteros 
sedate and contemplative. 

There is another less kind of Cupids somewhat younger and more simple than the 



Of the Vnuit'ni!!; of Ccilln'rs, or Vlafonih. 139 

former. Tlieso increase love, iutile the pleasures of v<jln|)tuoufine8s, or more 
slroiificr (leliidc (lie senses. To lliein, in order to show their simplicily, are ascriljed 
childisli and idh? actions, such as dancing, skipping about, running, rolling, flying, 
flin,^•i;l^• apples at each other, &c. They must not have quivers, hows, arrows, or 
torchtis, hut baskets of fruit and flowers, or chaplets, a looking glass, or any thing 
tonilini^ lo the j)leasures of leans. 

AU'xaiiikr, Properlius, I^/iihislialus, C'/iiiidinuiix, Silius Jlalicus, Apulcius, and 
others relate, that the diflV'ri'ut Loves and Cupids do not only respect the charms 
and service of Venus, but also imply the disires and tendencies of the heart ; 
since all men do not affect the same object, but each chuses for himself. 

We represent Cupid or liOve in the form of a little child, because it is sottish to 
betake to venery ; for the actions and speeches of those in love, are as imperfect as 
those of little cliildreu, as Virgil ■alxewa in Dido, — She begins to speak, and stops io 
the middle of her talk. He is exhibited with wings, to signify the inconstancy of 
lovers, who change with every wind, as we see in Dido, who was to put to death 
the person whom she before so dearly loved. He has arrows in his hand, because 
they arc also very light, and do not always hit the mark, as we have said of lovers, 
who are whimsical and tickle when they cannot gratify their wishes ; and as the 
arrow are sharp and piercing, so the sins of concupiscence no less wound the con- 
science. The arrows are likewise an emblem of love, which like thunder seizes 
the heart ; for many ha\e experienced the sorrowful issue of being captivated by the 
amorous glances of a beautiful woman, and through their fiery passions been led 
into great troubles ; for which reason Cupid is sometimes represented with thunder 
in his hand. 



CHAP. XVII. 

DEVOTIONAL ACTIONS OF NATURE. 

Of all the perfections of human nature, rehgion is the most excellent and most uni- 
versal ; wherefore all nations partake of it in their manner of living and service. 
And as reason principally distinguishes man from beasts, so we any where see, that 
the use of it binds men to some religious duties, as attending human understanding; 
and, according to Jumblic/ius, a Platonic sectary, exciting it by a natural desire and 
propensity to do good aiul slum evil. To which some allude by the celestial fire in 
the fable of Prometheus, with w hich he animated the first man ; thereby signifying, 
that as the soul is governed by religion, so our actions must chiefly tend to implore 
VOL. n. s 



ISO Of the Painting of Ceilings, or Plafonds. 

a blosising- oil tlieni, and o>ir cnis and hands he lifted up to heaven, knowing that all 
good proceeds IVoni the invisible Giver of all things, and we ought than' fully to rc^ 
ceive it to his lionour and glory. We shall, therefore, in order to be both delightful 
and useful, shew from antiquity, how and in what manner divers nations, not en- 
lightened by the gospel, have dedicated their worship under fictions and fables to 
the invisible Being, and begin with the Egyptians. 

The custom of these people was, w hen any person prayed to the gods, that he 
must, as the most decent action, do it standing and with lifted up hands ; which pos- 
ture was also strictly observed by the Romans in their religious worship, as 3Iarlial 
and Horace testify. f7ro-// likewise shews, that standing with hands lifted up signi- 
fies worship, when he introduces Anchises (at the miraculous sight oi Julnss head, en- 
compassed with a shiniiiglight, and yet his hair unhurt by the flame) joyfully turning 
his eyes to heaven, and lifting his hands in prayer to Jupiter; and, in confirmation 
of the acceptal)leness thereof, a loud thunder was soon after heard, and a star ap- 
peared in the heavens when dark, which, like a torch, with a long clear tail, descend- 
ing toM'ards the house, glided along, and at last hid itself in the wood of mount Ida, 
leaving behind a long stripe which emitted a sulphurous vapour and smoke ; where- 
upon Anchises, standing up, invokes the gods and sacred stars. Pliilo says, that the 
erect standing posture denotes an humble heart, wholly devoting itself to lieav«i. 
Authors luianimously agree, that the ancients offered their sacrifices, vows, and 
prayers to Jupiter in a standing posture, but to the goddess Op, in a sitting one, 
signifying thereby that she was the mother of the earth. Pi/thagoras enjoins those 
who pray, to do it sitting; yet Plutarch says, that Numa Po-mjnlius v^as the authoj* 
of that custom, thereby teaching, that vows and pi'ayers ought to be certain and 
, constant. 

As to the posture of praying standing, St. Paul seems to exhort thereto in his 
epistles. "NVelind likewise in the Old Testament, that the priests did in their prayers 
stretch out their hands to heaven. In the book of Judges, chap. vii. we read, that 
in Gideon's army, the men who bowed dow n on their knees to drink, were by God's 
command sent away : but those who drank standing, putting their hands to their 
mouths, were chosen, and defeated the Midianilcs. In Exod. chap. xvii. it is written, 
that as long as Moses held up his hands Amalek was discomfitted : which, as Ada- 
vumtins says, signifies, that he offered up to God his actions and enterprizes, not like 
creeping animals who cleave to the earth, btitas directing his heart and thought* to 
heaven. On whidh grounds and examples the council of Nice ordained prayer to 
be marie standing. 

Adoration, ftay a Pliyn/, not only consists in lifting up the handstoheaven, but also 
iu their being open in.side npwards, as if we gave them to kiss. They who adore 



()/ the. Vaiidinir of Ceilings, or I'lafonds. 131 

:in<l supplicate, says IJicroin/nins, are used to kiss tiic liamis: wlicixfon- tlifc IJthrews 
jiulgutl thisnianm;!- of kissiii<; to bo very ivvcnntial, and strictly obsr ivt-d it. Cicero 
and Catullus also confirui the signilication (.1 lillin-np or stretching out both the 
liands to heaven. Terlulliun speaking of praying fur the prtscrvation and prosperity 
of the emperor, says thus : tiie (Jlirislians bareiieuditd lift nj* their liands, with their 
eyes to heaven in token of innocence ; sij;nifyiii;4 thereby tliat they had no occasion 
to be ashamed, but heartily prayed for their emperor. Tlie Tuscans likewise, iu their 
prayers, used such a posture or stretching out the hands; and, in adoring their gods, 
especially Jiipilcr, lifted up their hands to heaven. Of whicii Virgil also makes men- 
tion in his fourth 7'Eneid, w here he describes Jitrbus among the statues and altars of 
the. gods, lifting up his hands to heaven, humbly and earnestly imploring /M/^t/fr. 
We read further, that in the Olympic games, anciently celebrated at Smyriui, a ridicu- 
lous and ignorant a«;torwas reproved by the sophist Polcmon, for liis awkward mo- 
tions with hands reversed ; becau.se, when Iu- was to sa>, i)\\ Jupiter ! he turned hi.s 
hands downwards, and in saying. Oh earth ! he looked up to heaven. But these 
perverse gestures, proceeding from ancient customs, are still seen among the Romish 
clergy, who as often as they pronounce the word God or I.ord, give the blessing to 
the congregation ; and in praying for tht; prosperity of the people, stretch out their 
hands on high. In the medals of Gordianus Pius, we see a small figure with the 
arms thus extended and the hands oj)en, with a motto alluding to the matter Pielas 
August. But to return to the ancient Egyptians : 

They used to represent the Deity in an hieroglyphic manner by a circle: and 
agreeable thereto, the philosopher Pytliagoras enjoined a turning round in the ado- 
j-atiou of the gods. Alcinous says, also, that he gathered from the Greek writings, 
that they had an ancient custom of running round the altars when the offered sacri- 
fice, beginning from the left to the right side, according to the Zodiac, and then run- 
ning from right to left. Plutarch thinks this was done in imitation of the heavenly 
motions in their continual rotation, which mortals ought to follow ; though others 
pretend, that thereby was meant the continual changes and instability of human ac- 
tions. As. for the continual motion and turning of the body in prayer, we find it to 
have been the custom of divers nations ; and in this sense the poet Propcrtius, in 

hisFirst Book, accosts his mistress, " I have often turned round before your 

door, f^nd offered up to you my soul and my prayers.' Like which, there is a pas- 
sage in Suetonius, when he speaks of the ancestors of Vitcilius, " he had," says he, " a 
particiUar address for flattery, and was the tirst who conuuauded divine worship to 
be paid to Cains Casar; and no [)ersou durst, after his return from Syria, appear in 
his presence without being covered, and turning .several times round with the face 
dow nwards. Numa Poiupilius ordained that men should turn several times round 

s 2 



132 Of tine Painting of Ceiiings, or Flafonds. 

in prayer to heaven, and afterwards sit down, thereby intiniatinc: tliat, in worldlv 
aflairt", mortals must expect nothing but inconstancy and continual change, which 
they ought to bear with patience and resolution. Add to this what Plini/ says ; that 
the manner of turning round in prayer was from the left to the right hand, in imita- 
tion of the earth; which, according to him and others, turns on its axis after that 
manner. Histories inform us, that as Caminus in prayer turned round, according to 
the Roman custom, he suddenly fell ; by which accident the people (much addicted 
to superstition) would needs presage his ruin, which happened soon after. We read 
also, that MarceUns being at war with the Tratisnlpinc Gauls, and come to a town 
called Capide in order to charge them, his horse, afTrighted by the shouts of the enemy, 
went backwards ; wherefore, to encourage his men, he turned him round as if he 
were adoring the sun, according to the -Roman custom before battle, and thus covered 
the accident without the people's perceiving it. 

We shall now, for' the reader's greater satisfaction, treat of Piety, and what re- 
lates to it. 

The ancients chiefly esteemed the altar as a hieroglyphic of Piety, offering, ac- 
cording to their ojiinion, their prayers to the gods by means of fire; which being 
supposed a medium between heavenly and human things, they pretended it to be a 
mediator or messenger. Accordingly Virgil, in his 12th iEneid, " I touch the altar, 
and call the fire upon it, and the gods to witness," &c. They urge further, that fire 
unites with material parts, and always rises upwards from below ; as knowing all 
our earthly actions, and imparting them to the heavenly spirits. Hence we see, that 
the manners of ofl'ering sacrifices are not without some foundation in reason, because 
the laws of nature are always purely observed. And since the world has been en- 
lightened with the truth, fire is customarily used in divine service, and no sacrifice 
was thought acceptable without it. Indeed, if earthly creatures can any way reconcile 
us to heaven, nothing has greater afl^inity with the fire, as it lights and clears every 
thing. Wherefore they think that they may represent the genii and angels, even the 
Deity itself by it. 

As to the Altars and Piety, we see in the medal of the emperor T. j^lius, a 
figure with open hands, which, as before observed, signifies Worship, and by it an 
altar with the^e letters, PIETAS. In one of Hadrianus Augustus is the same 
figure, between a stork and an altar adorned with gromid-ivy, with this inscription' 
PIETAS AUG. In one of Diva Augusta Faustina appears a woman, lifting up 
her garment with the left hand, and laying the offering on the burning altar witli the 
other, having the word PIETAS. In the ujedal of Lucilla we see a figure stand- 
ing behind the altar, with a cup in its hand as ready to offer, with the word 
PIETAS. In that of Anlonius is the figure of Piety, opening the right hand as a 



Of the T*ainli/if^ of Ceilings, or Vlafomls. 3.'3.''3 

token of adoration, and with the loft ready to put the nacrifice on the altar, with 
tije satne inscription. In the gold medal of L,. JElivs Casar, the rii;ht hand of tli«' 
figure is in the same action, and the left holds a gift, also inscribed PIETAS. 

W(! oflbr prayers and suj)plications, either in uiakiiiic vows or receiving favours 
in consequence of them. Hence proceed the various inscriptions on medals, 
which nevertheless do all allude to piety, whether in praying for help or return- 
ing thanks. Accordingly we find in the medal of JhUh Piu Aug. a woman tuck- 
ing up her garment on the left side, and oflering with the right, with this inscrip- 
tion VO'IW IMJBIiKJA. IJiit in one of J/ndn'funi.s an' two ligurcs ; one like the 
emperor, and the other holds in the left hand a palm-sprig, and v\ith the right offers 
him a cup, having this motto, ADVKNTUTI AUGUSTI. In one of Domitianiv 
a burning altar, inscribed PRINCEPS JUVENTUTIS. 

The altars were anciently, as they an; in these times, places of safety and pro- 
tection. Wlierefore Priamus, in Virgil, having lost all hope of preservation, took 
sanctuary at the altar, of which his wife had said. This altar shall protect us all. 
Cicero, speaking of the actor, Roscius, says, We run into his house as to an altar. 
And Ovid, in his Tristib. says, The altar only is left me in my misfortune. 

The Atlienians had a jjarticular altar dedicated to Mercy and Compassion, as 
we gather from the poet Papinins and Lactantius Grammaticus, and from Apsiiiis in 
his Rhetoric. Plutarch, treating of superstition, calls the altar abominable. Xeno- 
phon, in his second book of the state of Greece, takes Vesta for an emblem of re- 
fuge to the altar: When Theramciies (says he) had heard the things, he took to 
Vesta for refuge. Pollux calls Vesta the altar of offering, especially that at the 
Prytoiieum,* where the everlasting fire was kept. Dio7iysius Harlicarnassus says. 
That Romulus built a temple in honour of Vesta, and as a memorial of his having 
divided the Roman people into thirty wards. Suetonius writes almost the same in 
the life of Tiberius. 

In fine, the altars were set up for sacrifices and prayer, to obtain divine favour 
and blessing, though few have determined which of the various sacrifices was 
best and most approved by the ancients, who offered to the Almighty only in 
spirit and understanding, without uttering a word ; wherefore the Egyptians honour- 
ed the crocodile, as having no tongue, applying it to divine silence. They praised 
the spirits and souls of the ever-blessed, and offered to heavenly things material 
ones, such as had some affinity with them, viz. fire to the sun, &c. fiut to the evil 
spirits or devils, they brought offerings that they might not hurt or obstruct them, or 



* The place in Athens, where the judges and magistrates sat, and where those who had 
done any considerable service to the commofu wealth were maintained at the public charge. 



134 Of the Paiiifino- of Ceilings, or Flnfoncls. 

that their uncleanness miglit not pollute the sacrifice or the savour of the meat. 
The E>i}fptian!<* always thought it abominable to expiate with the blood of animals, 
and therefore offered only prayers and frankincense. The kings of the Ptolemaic 
line enjoined them sacrifices to Serapis uTid Saturn, to whom they l)uilt temples 
without their towns, wherein to offer beasts as usual ; though in after-times, accord- 
ing to the inhuman custom of Susiris, on his usurping the countries and places bor- 
dering on the y^ile, they offered men. But of offerings we shall treat further in the 
following chapter. 

CHAP. XVTTI. 

OF THE DIFFF.RKN'T OFFKI5INGS OF NATIONS, AND TIIFIR RITES. 

As from highest antiquity down to these times, different regards have been had for 
many persons and places, and the knowledge thereof much concerns an artist: bo 
he ought diligently to inquire into the ancient manners and customs relating thereto, 
both in general and with respect to particular countries. 

Scripture informs us, that the Athenians were very religious ; wherefore they, 
as well as the Romans, lest they should forget a deity, would rather set up an altar 
to an unknown god, and make offerings thereon, than be any ways negligent in 
the duty of worship. From which altar St. Paul took occasion to preach so 
powerful a sermon touching Christ and his gospel, as thereby to bring over many 
souls to Christianity. 

We must conclude, that so many altars required many priests, who were as 
different in dress as the gods and manner of offering ; those of Jupiter not at all 
like Priapus's, nor Diana's those of Uacchts, as we shall shew in the sequel. 

The great Laver of the Jeivs evidences, that their priests observed a perfect 
cleanliness in their worship. Even the Almighty himself ordered Moses to put off 
his shoes, when he appeared to him in the burning bush, and that any man or 
beast who touched the Mount or its borders, so long as he was present, should be 
shot or stoned. 

It is not probable that the heathens were so nice in this point ; nevertheless, tKe 
present custom induces us to believe, that their ancestors no less observed this de- 
cency in their worship, since, to this day, even Christians are not allowed to enter 
the mosques of the Mahometans, though of all infidels they are the least observers 
of religious ceremonies. 



Macrob. Saturn, lib. i. cap. 7. 



Of Ifir Vaiiiiiiiu; of C'ci/iiii^s, or Vhifornh. 135 

1 lliiiik it iiol amiss to doridc; llio Eo-ijptluns in |iarli(;uiar, Utr ]>ayiMg divirK- 
lioiKjiir to some Itcasts, hccaiisc most iialioiis, cspcfialiy tlic dncks, (wlio <x(elletl 
in wisdom and kiiowlcd^cj as likcwisi; tin; strict y^);;i«//.v \vt re iiifrctcd with tin; same 
supuislitioii. 

Marerobius writes, tiiat kiiij; ,/iiiiiis was the first wlio iiitrodiieed and estahlish- 
cd in J(a/i/ tin; on'eriii;j;s to the ^ods, and that lie himself was afterwards wor- 
>fhi|)ped as sueii, even so miicli, liiat the ancient lioiiians never sacrificed Ijcforc 
tliey had invoked liiin as liie invenlor an<l prolei lor of the oflferinss ; for the\ 
believed he always sat at the gates of licaviMi, and that the prayers of mortals 
could not reach the Cods if he denied them entrance; nay, he must even lend 
them a hand to go forward, because prayers, which Jlomcr calls woukti, are 
lame and crij)pie.s. 

The most ancient nations who hrought offerings (of which tiie Egyi>liaiis were 
doubtless the principal) did not make use of beasts, but iierbs, flowers, trees, and 
plants, as likewise j)erfumes ; they therefore who anciently lived on beast's flesh 
did it, as reported, for want of fruits ; and this on an opinion of Pytliuooras^ 
who forbid the eating of meat or blood, as judging that the soul had its residence 
therein: although Eusebius relates the ancient divines maintained, that no beasts, 
even no meal, honey, fruits or flowers ought to be offered ; for, says he, God 
knows them who fear him, and favourably accepts the poorest leaf they lay ou 
the altar, regarding their hearts and inclinations, and not ^^hat tiiey offer with 
their hands. 

It is certain that, in old times, a detestable custom prevailed among almost all 
nations of butchering men for victims ; as we learn, from credible authors, was 
practised to Diana Tauria. And not only the ancient Scythians, but also the Egyp- 
tians and Romans were infected with the same cruelty ; the former offering such 
victims in honour to Juno, and the latter to Jupiter, called Latiulis, whom they 
esteemed the protector of the Ealins. S'icinniiis Dentalus (or the toothed, as being 
so born), very famous for martial exploits, was the first among the Romans who 
sacrificed men to Mars. Athanusius relates, that divers other iiatiO;US, after their 
return from conquest, had a custom of dividing their prisoners into hundretls, 
and that one out of each, as the unlucky lot fell, was sacrificed to Mars. I'arro 
also testifies, that the wandering Trojans, on their arrival at last in Italy, offered, 
according to the oracle, one man in ten to P/mZo and Saturn. jEnceas, as Virg-il in- 
fotms us, chose eight yovmg gallants out of the prisoners he took of the enemy, to 
sacrifice to the gods of hell for the sake of Pallas deceased. Diodorus Siculous men- 
tions, that the people of Carthage sacrificed to an idol of metal, representing Satvrn, 
holding out its arms bent, young men as a burnt-ofl'eriug, by consuming them alive 



136 Of the Pdiiiting of Ceilings, or riiifonch. 

iritlie tlanicsof a rt>d hot oven placod iindcM- tliis figure. Wliieli ofieriugs were long 
retained among tliose people, till at last having tlieni in abhorrence, they P"t a live 
deer to tlie same use. Yet, some time after the death o( yi/exander the Great, on being 
visited with the plague, and the town closely besieged and reduced to famine by Aga- 
thoclcs king o( Sicili/, they, according totheconunon custom of nations, had recourse 
to their imagined tutelar-gods, prayers, and old superstitions, belie\ing that ^^/wrw, 
provoked by the change of oll'ering, (which their ancestors, with great devotion ap- 
propriated to him) had as a punishment caused this disaster and irreparable damage 
to befal them : which opinion so influenced on the minds of the citizens, that they 
barbarously in one day offered two hundred, others say three hundred youths of 
noble birth to that idol, as an atonement. The sanie writer adds, that the /-*/to?Hi- 
(ia7is exceeded all other nations in that umiatnral practice, insomuch, that in a frantic 
extravagance, and to appease the imagined wrath of the idol, Satu7-N, they sacrificed 
their own children ; and afterwards abating that cruelty, they made use of those of 
other men, whom they secretly bought or stole for this abominable purpo.se. But 
Vlutarch, that Gelon, king of Sicily, having vanquished the Cartltagenians in the 
battle of IJymeru, forced them to promise never more to offer either their own or 
other men's children in such a manner. Quintius Curtius testifies, that this cruel 
custom prevailed among the people of Tyre, till the destruction of that city. And, 
according to St. Angustin, the ancient Gauls, inhabitants of France, as now called, 
and several other nations, were defiled with this abomination. Heliogahalus, one of 
the greatest and most extravagant tyrants who eversaton the Homan throne, caused 
all Italy to be searched for beautifid and noble youths, whose parents were still 
alive, barbarously, and to the greater sorrow of their families, to oft'er them as vic- 
tims. The Jews are also, not without reason, much censuied by Aypiott, Julian the 
apostate and others, for having sacrificed men to idols; abhorring the cruelty of 
Jephthah, chief of the Gileadites, in delivering up his daughter for a burnt-offering. 
This detestable superstition was not the only prevalent among the heathens, but also 
among the kings of JudaJi, the rulers of God's chosen people, in making their chil- 
dren pass through the tire, ofl'ering them up to Moloch, as we read of AhazAnA Ma- 
nasseh, 2 Kings xvi. and x.\i. and as Josephus de Antiq. lib. 2. says, after the manner 
of the Canaanitcs. Camhjses, king of Persia, and Alexander the Great, after him, by 
public and universal laws, prohibited their subjects these abominable offerings : yet, 
not being long observed, the emperor, Hadrianus, under severe penalties entirely 
.supprest them. Hercules first abolished the killing of men for a sacrifice to Saturn, 
offering him so many burning lights in their stead, and thereby reformed the inhuman 
custom. This he did on his return from Spain ; and assigned for reason, that the 
Greek word ,^c^, (which the oracle of Dodone had made use of for the institution of 
that solemnity) signified light, as well as man, and that therefore they were to oft'er to 



Of the Pdinlhig nf Cei/iii^s, or Plafoiuh. 137 

P/«Zo* baked lii>iir('s of <Iny and liiiriiiri;;- forclics of (jiiidlfs iii.stcad of ni* ii : for 
whicli causo, tht-y on Uio fcslividsof Saturn, cidlod S'ii(.uniiiliii, ina«l«' presents lo oiio 
anolluT of little rm,iir<v^ and l)nriiinp; wax-candles. J5nt l.ijciirgiis, tlic L,accdfmonian 
legislator, ordained that |)it;s slioidd Im; used for victims instead of jiien. 

Ti»o inuif^c of nidt/n, nrentionod before, "vvhicli Jphi^enia and Orestes had brouj^ht, 
bound up in a bundle of willow-branches, from C/irrstmesus l^auricia, now called 
Crhn, was worshipped l)y the I^acct/emonimis with great reverence. They anciently 
oflered it to uhju, \\ho were chosen by castinij the lot: this cruel custom J^ycurgus 
altered thus ; they led youths to the altar of the idol, and whipperl them so long, 
till, according- to their institution, and the will of the oracle, it was spriidcled with 
human blooil : and this was done to encourage young- people not to fear the cuts 
and wounds th(;y might receive from the enemy in battle. 

Vhitarch also relates, that anciently when the plague had made a sad havock at 
Lacedemon, the people were informed by the oracle, that the infection woidd cease 
if they oflered yearly some noble virgins. The Lacedemonians obeyed. At last it 
happened, that the lot M\ on ITelvun : who, being led for sacrilice, an eagle des- 
cended, and snatched the weapon out of the priest's hand, carrying it over a field, 
■where he dropped on a heifer. Aristides,, in his 19th book of the Italian state, 
mentions the same accident formerly happening at Rome to Valeria Luperca. 

The head, says Ilesi/chius, bishop of Jerusalem, as having of all that is created, 
reason is called understanding, and has planted its scat in the heart. God also 
formerly commanded, that the heart and liver, and all that belongs to it, should be 
a burnt-oflering to him : for from the heart and liver come forth the springs and 
motions of our carnal appetites. And in this sense St. Paul blesses his congrega- 
tion, saying, " The jieace of God, which passes all understanding, keep your hearts 
and minds," &c. The prophet Isaiah says likewise, "The whole head is sick, and 
the whole heart faint: from the sole of the foot even unto the head there is no sound- 
ness in it." 

Herodotus writes, that the Scythians worshipped divers gods, but did not erect 
either temples, altars, or images, other than to Mo;-*, although their manner of sacri- 
fice-was one and the same to all their gods : and which I think not improper to men- 
tion here. The victim being brought to the appointed place, with its fore-legs tied, 
the priest followed, striking it on the head; which causing it to sink, they thereupoa 
invoked the god to whom it was to be oflered. Then he threw a rope about its neck 
and strangled it, and pulling the skin and flesh from the bones, he put the same, if 



* Macrob. 1. i. c. 7. 

YGL. II. T 



138 Of the Paintitig of Ceilings, or Pltifoiuls. 

tliey had no wood, on the bones with other burning mixtures, in order to boil it; 
and, if tlicy wanted the necessary kettles, they put the flesh into the skin again, and 
thus broiled it on the tire. This being done, the priest oflered the victim to the god 
they intended. But among all their victims the horse was the chief, which therefore 
they dedicated to Mars; whose temple, when damaged and decayed by rains, damp- 
ness, and a bad climate, they retrieved in the following manner: — they gathered 
many branches, twigs, and chips of trees, piling them into a large square heap, made 
perpendicular on three sides, and sloping on the fourth, so as conveniently to step on : 
in the middle of this heap they laid a large knife, not unlike the present Persian or 
Turkish scymitars ; which they imagined to be the true image of 3Iars, whom they 
worshipped and honoured with their offerings. 

That the horse was anciently first sacrificed to Ma;**, the histories of the Greeks 
and Roma7is plainly evince. The annals of the latter testify, that they used to ofler 
yearly to him, in the Campus Martins, on the 12th of December, a horse which had 
won the prize in the race; thereby beseeching the god to favour their warlike enter- 
prizes with success. Pausanias reports, that Tyndarus, father of Helena, who was 
ravished by Paris and carried to Troy, having determined the utmost revenge, as- 
sembled all the Grecian princes in conjunction with her consort Menelaus, vowing by 
the sacrifice of a horse, to revenge by the sword the affront put upon him and his 
family. Some also pretend, that the aforesaid festival, kept on the 12th of Decem- 
ber, has been celebrated on the r2th October, and that the name oi October was given 
to the horse appointed for those purposes. On which occasion a great contest one 
time arose at Rome about the sacrificed horse's head ; some insisting to have it on 
the Capitol, and others on a tower of the city, called Mamillia. The solemnities of 
this rite were performed in the following manner : — on the 12th of October, they led 
a fine horse, decked with garlands of greens, intermixed with flowers and leaves of 
bread, through the streets and quarters of the town ; and, being arrived at the Campus 
Martias, they there killed and offered him to Mar*, for obtaining prosperity and 
fruitfulness. This was done to beseech the god to prevent ruinous war, in which 
the cavalry cawses the greatest damage and destruction to the product of the field : 
for it would be absurd to think that the Romans, who pretended to be descended 
from the Trojans, should ofler the horse to Mars, after the Greek manner, and in con- 
formity to the intention of Tyndarus, in order to be revenged of their ancestors ; 
wherefore it was only for the reason aforesaid. The JLacedemonians, as Festus 
aflirins, had also a custom of offering a horse yearly on Mount Taygetus ; burning 
him to ashes for the wind to scatter into all their towns, villages, and districts. And 
Taiisanias mentions that the Macedonians sacrificed on the same Mount a horse to 
the 6un, in imitation of the Versians. Xenophon asserts the same in his Memoirs, 



Of the Pmntini^ of Ceilings, or Vlufonds. 139 

\>1kmi herniates, tliat lliny made CWjV; a prrscnt of n horse for that purpose; know- 
ing it was the custom of the Vcrsiansio honour thi- sun with surli a \ietim. He says 
further, that the Sarmatans bred horses for sacriiice and sustcnanc*!. Thi; Snlentines 
likewise ofTored horses, and afterwards hurnt them, in honour to Jupiter. ThepeopJc 
ofR/ioffex offered to tlie sun a cliariot with four beautiful horses : which they drove 
into the sea to hv. swallowed np by the waves ; bclievin;? the sun ran round the world 
equipped in that manner. We read in the heroic poems of P/ii/osfratus, that, in 
order to overcome their enemies, they were obliged to offer to the sun a wliite foal 
wiio had never known the bridle or spur: this was done by the advice of Valamedcs, 
to buoy up and animate the (h-ecks, who, at the siege of Troij, were struck with 
frights and fears at the sight of a sudden eclipse which then happened. 

Origines intimates, that the offering a bullock before the tabernacle, according to 
the ancient /c«/5/t rite, signified, that we must subdue all pride and haughtiness; 
and by a calf, the having overcome the weakness of the flesh. 

The Boeotians had a custom of sacrificing to Neptune a bullock, called with them 
Mucyies, or bellowing ; because his noise has some affinity with that of the billows 
when violently agitated by the winds. The bullocks, which the priests selected for 
that deity, ought to have dark hair, tliereby to signify the dark depths of the water. 
Wherefore many think, that the eagle is called by the Latins, AbuiUa, from the word 
Aqua, as having a dark and blackish colour. For the same reason, the sea-gods are 
usually presented with brown complexions, bluish hair and gannents, and with full 
chests and broad shoulders, like bullocks. As to the Taurii Lndi, or bull solemnities 
in use among the ancient Romans, they were not instituted by them in honour to Nep- 
tune, but for the infernal gods, whom they believed were thereby moved to compas- 
sion, when under Tarquinus Supcrbus, the city was afflicted with a plague, which 
carried off abundance of women with child, and the people imputed the misfortune to 
the eating the flesh of black bullocks. 

The sacrifices which the Roman censors used to offer every fifth year for their pu- 
rification, and called Solitaurilla, consisted of a boar, a ram, and a bull. 

The offering a bullock, as we gather from history, was generally, especially among 
the /?o>Ma«5, a token of victory gained over the enemy: accordingly, Jj^i'fwn/ says, 
they led to the capitol a large black bullock marked with chalk. But here it must 
be observed, that the Lacedemonians in some sort imitated the Romaris in several of 
their sacrifices of that nature ; for when the latter got a victory by slaughter and 
taking the enemy prisoners, they offered a bullock ; but when without blood-shed, 
a sheep. The Lacedemonians, contrarily, sacrificed a bullock, on obtaining a vic- 
tory without cruelty or blood-shed ; and a cock when it was got in the open field, 

T 2 



140 Of the Painting of Ceilings, or Plafonds. 

in a pitched battle, preferring euterprizes perfonnecl with reason and conduct, to 
those effected by iiiain force. 

We read likewise, that anciently, especially among the Romans, the bullock was 
so much regarded, that it was as capital to kill one as to mnrder a citizen. Where- 
fore ErichthcEus, reigning at Athens, ordered, that at the yearly festival, wherein a 
bullock was sacriticed, ihc popa or priest (whose duty required iiim to furnish the 
cattle, and cut their throats when knocked down) should, after the solenuiity was 
over, and in maintainance of the law, forsake the town, first leaving the ax at the 
foot of the altar. 

The Thessalians were enjoined by the oracle oi Apollo at Dodone, to oflcr sacrifice 
yearly on the tomb of Achilles; and to fnrnish the necessaries from their own coun- 
try ; namely, two tame bulls, one black, and the other white; the wood from Mount 
Pelion ; the fire out of Thcssaly ; and flower and water from the river Sperchius. 
With these were to be used garlands and festoons of greens, intermi.xed with ama- 
ranths, that, in case the ships, bringing the necessaries from other countries should 
be kept back by contrary winds, at least such greens and flowers that never wither, 
might not be wanting to hang on the tomb. 

Apollodorus and At/ienceus relates, that Hercules was so great an eater, as often 
to devour a whole bullock at a xueal : for which reason, the ancients dedicated to 
iiim the water-fowl, called by the Greeks Xii^or, in English Sea-mew ; because this 
bird, according to Suidas, is very voracious ; nay, on account of this excess in eat- 
ing, they brought him offerings, whereby men were not allowed io use any other 
expressions than cursing and swearing. Eactantius and Apollodorus relate the story 
thus : Hercules on a time travelling with some companions through Rhodes, and 
being very hungry, met with a country-man at plough with a couple of oxen, which 
he desired to purchase for filling his belly ; but the man rejecting the proffer, Her- 
cules took the cattle by force, and with his companions eat them up. The other en- 
raged and frantic hereat, cursed and swore at Hercules as he was eating ; who 
laughed at and bantered hirn, saying he never eat a better morsel, or with more 
taste in all his life. Wherefore the inhabitants of that island erected an altar to him 
after his deification, whereon was carved a yoke of oxen ; oflering thereon, at certain 
times, a couple of oxen : at which solemnity the priests and people bustled about, 
and made a great noise, by cursing, swearing, and other impieties, which they 
thought would please tiie god, in remembrance of the adventure with the plough-man. 

I must sii bjoin another sacrifice to the honour and memory of the deified Hercules, 
not less foolish than ridiculous. Suides relates, that the Jiieotians on a certain time 
leading an ox for sacrifice, he broke loose, and ran away. Whereupon the mob, un-- 



Of (lie F<ii>i/iii<>; of Ccil/niiS, or P/afoiids. 141 

williiin' to delay the time for ci.Uliriitiou, stiick an apple on four Hticks, with two 
smaller on top, representin!^- fonr lei;;s and two horns; ofleriufc this with great so- 
lemnity to Jlcrculcs. Others aserihe this apple saerilice, instead of an ox, to the 
Alltrtiidiis: anil .Inlins l^ollus testifies, that it was lonjj in use amon;^ the 'J'hebans. 
Yet Pausanias in his Memoirs reports, that as the apple tree is sometimes accepted 
bv the gods, in token of a propitious sacrifice, so the DceoliuHs, at the ox's running 
away, offered to Uercules an apple tree, having hut four branches instead of tlu! four- 
legged beast ; w hence it became' afterwards customary to consecrate that tree to this 
God. And Apollodorus atlirms, according to Zenodoles, that those offerings of the 
Ba:otians were instead of rams and sheep. 

The in)ploring help and favour by means of a bullock, remind me of a custom of 
the ancient Scj/l/iinus, now called Tdrlarx, who, killing and stripping a bullock, the 
person who had received any injury from another took the skin, spread it on the 
ground, and sat upon it with his hands behind him; and those who, in passing by, 
promised to give their assistance, trod on the skin with the right foot, thereby .sig- 
nifying the means they proposed to use for the injured persons satisfaction. This 
custom is largely described by Lucianus, treating of friendship under the name of 
Toxaris. And, speaking of the honiolots, he says, That when they designed in- 
violably to engage themselves to each other, they killed an ox, and cut him into 
small pieces, to give to people as they passed by : which custom is solemnly observed 
by the Circassian Tartars inhabiting between the rivers Taniis and Phasis. And all 
such passengers as get a piece of such an ox, think themselves so bound in friend- 
ship, and so much obliged to the giver, as not to scruple hazarding either goods or 
life in revenging the injury done to their friend. 

The Atlieuians in thankful acknowledgment of the profitable labour of the ox, 
stamped his image on their coin, called Didrachmum. Wherefore, we read in 
Homer, and other writers, that they used to buy merchandizes by certain numbers 
of oxen : as in the second Book of his Iliads he has it — " Every thing of that kind 
is sold for a hecatomb,"' i. e. a hundred oxen: or, in better terms, for a hundred 
pieces of gold or silver crown with their impress. 

Pindarus mentious.t hat the Hyperboreans performed their hecatombs,* or great 
sacrifices, to Apollo w ith asses : wherefore Catlhmic/ius says. That, that god took 
delight in the killing a fat ass. 

But tlie Egt/ptians hated this creature, not only for his dullness and stupidity, 
but also for his skin mixed with brown and w bite, w hich they accounted abominable 



A Greek word, signij'ijing an offering of a hundred beasts. 



142 Of the Tainting of Ceilings, or Plafo7ids, 

and unfit to be oflered to the gods. Accordingly, tlicy abused liim as much as 
possible, flinging stones and clods of dirt and mud, and pricking him with sharp- 
pointed sticks ; and when in the pursuit they found him on a convenient eminence 
they made liim roll down. Hence arose the comparative proverb applied to con- 
temptible persons. The ass of Escypt. 

These people were not the only ones who paid honour to the hog : other nations 
have ranked it with their gods: for this creature was formerly sacred in Candia, 
where they believed that Jupiter, at his birth, sucked a sow, which by her grunting 
entirely drowned the cries of the child ; though some will rather subscribe this 
kindness to the goat of Amalthea. 

The ancient Italian kings had a custom, to ofler a hog in their nuptial solemnities : 
and the great, in their nuptial feasts brought, according to the Tuscan manner, a 
hog to the altar, consecrating it to the tutelar gods and presiders over new married 
persons; which was the general custom of the Greeks as well as of the Latins. 

They of Argus celebrated the festival called Hysteries, by offering a hog in ho- 
nour to Venus; of which Callimac/ius largely treats ; though we find the Sici/onians 
dedicated to her all kinds of beasts, as Aristophanes testifies, saying, They killed 
a hog to ofier to Venus. 

They likewise ofiered a hog to the goddess Ma/'a, (by whom is meant the earth, 
thus called, according to Cornelius Laheo, as signifying greatness) because this crea- 
ture makes great havoc among the corn and grain, and is very prone to tear up the 
ground, as Horace says, The hogs love the mud ; for these beasts were sacrificed to 
the gods, either on account of their likeness and agreement, or dissimularity and 
aversion. Wherefore the poet mentions, that the hog was first offered to Ceres, for 
the great mischief it did to the corn. Verajiius says. They also ofiered a sow to 
Ceres after a funeral, for purifying the family. 

On making a peace, alliance, or truce, they offered a hog, as Virgil affirms. 
He made the peace during the killing of a sow. Though Quintilian and Servius, 
in their remarks, that Virgil means a hog, because in that solemnity was always 
used a hog or hoar. Suetonius, in the life ©f Claudius Caesar, reports, that he made 
an alliance with the princes during the ofiering of a sow ; though Tilius Livius speaks 
likewise of a hog. 

The "Mosaic law enjoined the king or princes to offer for their sins a he-goat; 
and those who had no public exployment, a she goat, or lamb. Aaron was com- 
manded to ofier for himself and famUy, a calf, as harmless, as righteous, and a he 
goat for an ofiering. And we learn from Hesychius, bishop of Jerusalem, that the 
High Priest, after having a he goat for a burnt offering, was allowed to go into the 
Holy of Holies, clothed in a white linen coat, with the girdle of the same, and 



Of the Puinting of Ceilings, or Pldfoiid.t. 143 

breeches and mitre of fine twined linen; as signifying, tliat heing reconciled to God, 
purified in body and soul, chaste, sober, and righteons, tilled with godly under- 
standing, and the gifts of th«r Holy Spirit, he might enter into that |)la(e. 

TIk' ollering he goats and sheep under the law, implies a morlilying and rooting 
out all impurities and carnal lusts, as Adamanlius explains it, and to which Cyril 
agrees ; for scripture, hieroglyphically, commoidy takes the he goat for men plunged 
in impure, antl all manner of extravagant desires; as also plainly appears by our 
Saviour's words, When, at the last judgment, he will set the !<heepor <lect, witli iiless- 
ings, on bis right band, and on the left those, who by sin are unworthy of his pity, 
for eternal punishment. And after such a manner the goat Avas brought to atone 
for sins, when the law commanded, that he should be presented alive before the 
altar, and the high ]>riest laying his hands on the head shoidd confess over him all 
the iniquities of the people, and put them on the head of this lascivious creature, 
and then by a (it person send him away into the wilderness. They add, for con- 
tirmation, that the thick and rough hair of this beast is laid upon him as a burthen 
of his laseiviousness. 

The fables of the Greek poets tell us, that Hercules was the first who tamed the 
lascivious he goat; meaning, that he overcame the wanton desires of the flesh. He 
likewise tirst offered this beast to Juno; for, having vanquished Hippocoon, and 
thereby irritated the goddess, he found no other victims at hand to appease her with, 
as Pausanius relates in his third book. But the Lacedemoniaiis sacrificed to Diana, 
called the Cori/lhalian in the fields, goats flesh only, no other beast being allowed 
in that solcnmity. Wherefore Xenophoii in his Memoirs reports, that when the Per- 
sians m-veiied Athens with a mighty force, intending to ruin it entirely, the Athenians 
made a vow to Diana, to oft'er to her as many goats as they should defeat enemies, 
in case they overcame them. 

The poets likewise mention, that the goat was sacrificed to Bacchus, because he, 
being the god of w ine, could not be more acceptably honoured, than with the death 
of a creature so noxious to vineyards dedicated to him. Wherefore the festival; 
called Ascolia, were also celebrated in his honour; when they laid on the ground at 
equal distances, sacks or bags of goats skins filled with wind, which being smeared 
with oil or grease, they merrily to win the prize, leaped from one upon the other, to 
the no small delight and applause of the people. 

The Roman ladies, on being delivered with twins, formerly offered to Juno (to 
whom empires and riches were sacred) certain sheep, which, according to Sebius 
M.acer, were tied between two pair of lambs on each side. But the Sicyonians 
custom was, to offer fat sheep, by them called Eumenides, to the gods of benevo- 
lence and good hope, for the good luck and prosperity of their families. They like 



144 Of the Painting of Ceilings, or Phfonds. 

•wise sacriliced to Hercules, as god of riches and plenty, a slioop tied on fonr sticks 
instead of a bullock, who ran away as tliey were leading liiin to tlie altar; wliere- 
fore he is called Melius, or Shepherd. But of this ridiculous offering I have said 
enough before. 

We gather from the Greek and Jiomun histories and antiquities, that they sacri- 
ficed dogs, the former to Prosoipinu, and the latter to Gcnctia. At the festival called 
Lupcrcalia, sacred to the Lycan idol Pan, the Romans offered the same, knowing 
that the constant nature of dogs is to pursue wolves. Otiiers think that this was 
done in honour and remembrance of Komidus, who, they said, was in his infancy 
laiil in a wood, and brought up by a wolf. Some report that Ecander first intro- 
duced ami established those solemnities. The people of Argos oflered dogs to 
tiie goddess Ci/onia, to whom they ascribed the power of giving women in labour 
a happy delivery. The Laeedemoninns consecrated those creatures to Ma;,* for 
their eagerness and alacrity in falling on deer. For the young men in their warlike 
exercises used to begin with sacriiicing a little dog to ISlars, as the strongest and 
most valiant of the gods, judging that creature to be tlie most acceptable of the 
tame and sociable animals. The Augures, a sort of priests among the Romans, also 
often sacrificed a kind of red dogs befoge the town gate, called from thence Catu- 
laria, or dogs-gate, that the heat of the dog-days in Jnli/ and August might not burn 
or spoil the trees and fruits of the earth. 

The inhabitants of Methane annually oflered a cock for the prosperity of the vine- 
yards, and for averting the violent South-east winds ; for when this wind rises in 
the blossoming time of the vines, its malignity kills the young shoots, and frustrates 
the hope of a future vintage : wherefore the Augures of that tract of land found it 
proper to order, that two young men, chosen for that purpose, should at a certain 
place take a white cock, and each holding a leg above the spur, by parting pull 
him to pieces ; and then with the piece of the cock in their hands, running round 
the vineyards, one to the right, the other to the left, till having as they thought made 
an atonen)ent, they met again at the place where the cock was torn to pieces, and 
there buried him. By blind luck, it sometimes fell out that, as long as tliey observed 
the solemnity, the issue of things answered their desire. 

The ancient Romans also used annually to sacrifice a hen to u^sculapius, the god 
of health. 

The duck, on account of its voracious nature, was by the Baotians sacred to 
Hercules (w hom they judged the greatest eater), as the most acceptable to him. 

And, according to Zenodolus, the Phoenicians offered a quail to the same god, be- 
cause it once saved his life. 

The people of Cyrenc ascribed great honour in husbandry to Saturn; saying, be 



Of the Tainting of Ceilings, or Plafonds. IAS 

was the inventor of planting, grafting, pruning, and dunging: wherefore, in his so- 
lemnities, they wore on tlieir lieads chapletsof fresh figs, as well on account of their 
being food, as dainty taste. 

The Egyptians offered annually, on the 19th day of the first month, honey and 
figs, in honour of Mercury, celebrating this feast with great noise, and crying. Oh ! 
how sweet and agreeable is truth. 

The ancient Gauls worshipped Hercules as the god of prudence, and, as Lucia- 
nus says. Eloquence, even more than Mercury: because eloquence is accounted 
more consummate in aged men (as Hercules is generally represented) than in the 
young: wherefore they offered to him, as the Egyptians did to Mercury, honey and 
figs : moreover, all who ministered held a fig-tree branch in their hands, and they, 
as well as the priests, had their heads adorned with poplar leaves. Virgil like- 
wise mentions, that Evander, offering to this god, had a chaplet of the same leaves 
about his head, calling them Hercules leaves. And Macrobius says, that the ancient 
solemnities to Saturn, and Hercules were performed bare-headed ; but in thoee to 
other gods the priests heads were covered. 

The ancient Romans offered to the goddess Cama, to whom they ascribed the 
support of the animal spirits in human bodies, bacon, and the greens of beans, 
whereby men are made strong and hearty for labour. And it is certain that those 
people called the first day of June, Fabarice, or Bean's-day, because that oblation 
was instituted by Junius Brutus, of whom this month has also borrrowed its name. 
Festus Pompeius says, that the Romans annually offered to Vulcan in June, at the 
feast called the Fishing games, a sort of fish for the souls of men ; because the an- 
cient philosophers hieroglyphically represented the souls by fishes ; and, as Philo 
says. Because they consist of a pure element, and God created them the first of all 
living creatures. 

Vincent Cartari relates another custom of the Romans, That, after a victory ob- 
tained, they piled all the shields and other weapons of the enemy in a heap, and 
burnt them as an oblation to Vulcan: which was done, says Servius, in imitation 
of Tarquinius Priscus, who, having overcome the Sabines, burnt all their weapons 
in honour of the same god ; and as Evander mentions in Virgil, he did when young, 
and had gotten the victory at Prccneste. 

The Egyptians offered to Isis loaves and apples. And the ancient Sicilians, acorns 
and flour to Ceres. The heathenish priests offered to the nymphs, or water and field 
goddesses, white lilies, on account of their purity. As Serapis is reputed by the 
Egyptians the god of riches, or the productions of the earth, being the inventor of 
flowing and tillage ; he is therefore by them represented with a basket of fruits of 

VOL. 11. u 



146 Of the Pointing of Ceilings, or Plafonds. 

the earth on his head. Even his offerings, whether of meat, bread, fruits, or flowers, 
were carried in basinets. 

We see that the jug is commonly sacred to Osiris, not only on account of his 
being master and inventor of wine, but also of all moisture ; wherefore he is called 
Ocean, and Isis, Thetis; for it was the custom to carry a jug in the procession of 
the otl'eriiigs, thereby to shew their veneration for this god, keejiing a large one in 
particular esteem, to carry it covered with great solemnity to tiie temple; where 
being arrived, they kneeled down, and with lifted up hands thanked the god for 
his loving-kindness to men ; as believing that all things were brought forth by 
moisture. 

In a certain place in Greece they vi-orshipped Myugrtis, god of the flies ; when the 
people oft'ered to him all the flies retired from those parts. The Cyrinenscs in L,yhia 
also honoured the god of flies, called Achor, making offerings to him for stoppitig 
the])lngue, which sometimes was occasioned by the multitiule of tliose insects. 

Anciently they oft'ered red wine instead of blood. For Moses, in his .song in 
Deuteronomy, says, " And thou didst drink the pure blood of the grape," And 
David, in his Psalms, " They have drank the blood of the grape." Indeed, the 
JEgyptia7i priests, some of whom were kings, entirely abstained from wine, but 
always used it in their offerings, not as an acceptableness to heaven, but to signify 
the blood and punishment of those who rebelled against the gods, and thereby to 
obtain favour and reconciliation ; for the JKgypiians firmly believed that wine sprang 
from the blood of the discomfitted giants, which, on their rising against the gods, 
and threatening to storm heaven, was spilt on the earth, and therefore mad( men 
commit all manner of extravagancies : they also intimated by tiie wine-press, per- 
secution, adversity, vexation, and oppression. 

The Romans, on the other hand, celebrated the feast of Mercury Avith n)ilk only, 
to express thereby the sweetness of eloquence. Those rites were peifornied at 
Rome, in the street called Sobrius, or St)ber, because wine has many strange effects, 
as, disclosing of secrets, running rashly into dangers, weakness of the legs, faulted* 
ing of the tonjiue, wandering senses, and other imperfections. 

The gods were moreover worshipped in the offerings, not only with the slaughter 
of beasts, but also with festoons and garlands of flowers, and with the tinkling 
noise of copper and iron instruments, tabors, harmonious sounds, hautboys, pipes, &c. 

To finish this chapter, let me add, that anciently it was the custom of many 
nations to make, on the face of the altar, a ( ircle or ring with the blood of the 
victim, carefully and with gi-eat devotion saving it in a ve.ssel for that purpose. This 
solemnity they called by a word, which signifies, Making perfect, saying, That the 
round was the most perfect of all fig\ire». 



Of the Painting of CeilitigSf or Plafonds. \411 



CHAP. XIX. 

OF THE SACEllDOTAL DRJISSKS, VESSELS, AND OTHEil MATERIALS 
BELONGING TO OfFEIllNUS. 

jLo make the preceding chapter more complete, I thought it necessary to say som«- 
tliing here of tlie sacerdotal drtJKses, vessels, iicc. helieving it may be of service 
to the curious artists, whose constant eniploymeiits will not always allow them to 
peruse the authors treating of those matters. .;, .»i; t 

When the ^Egyptian priests, for the sins of the people, put up prayers for avert- 
ing the wrath of God, ihey were dressed in black, to signify that mortals proceed- 
ing from usual eartli, besought and entreated that invisible Being, ou a belief that 
no other coloured dress was more proper. 

It is likewise a general custom of the principal and most polite nations to dress 
io black at times of humiliation, and those who mourn make use of the same co- 
lour ; wherefore, Vano calls them Anl/iracini, or as black as coals. 

The Arcadians also worshipped Ceres, goddess of the fruits of the earth, in black 
clothes : and the priests of the idol Falacer, to whom they attributed the care and 
inspection of the fruits of the trees, wore commonly black caps ; but in their so- 
lemnities all black. The black was also dedicated to Pltilo, and in offering to him 
the priests were in this colour, believing that it best suited the hellish or subter- 
ranean gods. 

Herodotus, to shew that the heathens agree with the present opinion concerning 
the signification of cleanliness, testified that the ^Egyptians did not allow the wear- 
ing in their temples any clothes made of wool, but they had white linen garments. 
TerttdUan, speaking of our Saviour, therefore says, As he is dressed in the garb 
of white linen, it is the same with that of Osiris. And Plutarch treating of Jsis 
and Osiris, takes this to be the reason why the priests make use only of white linen 
garments, to signify that all clean and undefiled things best agree with the nature 
of the Gods, whose pure and sacred Majesty, according to Plato, ought not to be 
worshipped by things impure and filthy. And as linen is the clearest dress, and 
can be very easily washed aud made beautiful, so it was thought the most becom- 
ing the sacerdotal dignity and purity. And, indeed, the Magii, or priests of the 
ancient Persians said. That God took delight in white garments ; which assertion 
seems to be borrowed from Solomon, who, in his exhortations to good and blame- 
less manners, and a pure conscience, says — Let your garments be always white ; 

u 2 



14S Of the Pointing of Ceilings, or Plafonds. 

as if he meant, — Take heed, in all your actions, not to be defiled with evil and un- 
cleanness." 

The priestly vestment called Poderis, from the Creek words Pode, in English, 
Feet, was of fine white linen, setting close to the body, and hanginj^- down to the 
feet. Ancient divines say. That thereby they signified t/te most holy nnd mysterious 
doctrine. This was the undermost covering, as we find in Exod. xxxix. And 
they made coats of fine wove linen, and their garment called Hypodytes of 
Hyacinth Colour, intimating heavenliness, and that men ought to raise their 
minds, thoughts, and faculties thither, forsaking what is earthly. The priests also 
•wore under their coats, breeches of fine twined linen, covering their privities and 
thighs, as an admonition to dress and appear in chastity. They were likewise 
enjoined by the offortorial law to be girt with a girdle embroidered with blue, pur- 
ple, and scarlet, hieroglyphically implying Fortitude, Strength, and Virtue. 

The Romish priests use, to this day, white linen garments in their service, as did 
also Appolonius Tyaneus, to whom they seemed more agreeable with cleanliness, 
than others woven of foul and greasy wool. 

The shoes of the JEgyplutn priests were not made of other matter than the bark 
of trees ; so cautious were they in avoiding the least appearance of unchastity and 
uncleanness. Accordingly, and with respect to purify, it was a great crime among 
the Roman priestesses, called Flaminicce, to wear shoes of skins of beasts which 
died natural deaths, superstitiously believing it to be abominable ; but they ap- 
proved of such as were made of offered beasts skins. Our Saviour himself com- 
manded his disciples not to wear shoes ; that being with all speed to publish ever- 
lasting life, they might entirely forsake what is corruptible. Moses also leaving the 
MgyptianhonAa^e, wore shoes of beasts skins, intimating his affinity with mortality; 
but afterwards as he grew in strength and virtue, and was to serve the Almighty, he 
was commanded to pull them off. 

The JEgyptian priests adorned their heads with hawk's feathers, thinking to 
owe this honour to that bird, because, as they say, he formerly brought the 
priests of Thebes, in JEgypt, a book written in red letters, containing the manners 
of worshipping the gods, and many of the principal rites to be observed in their 
offerings; wherefore the Latin poets, according to Martial, call those priests 
copped or crested. 

It would be needless to say more touching the sacred dresses, such as the mitre, 
bonnet, ephod, and other ornaments, since they and every thing else relating to the 
priesthood are amply described by Goeree in his Jewish antiquities. Wherefore, 
after having touched on the hair of the priests, we shall only treat of the ancient 
Roman, priesthood. 



Of the VnifUbig of Ceilings^ or Piafoiifh. I'i9 

It was fnrtiiorly thr. gre-atcst scandal and indi^;nity for a man to have his hair 
cut ofT: aii(i possibly Moses therefore coinmaiifled the pri(^sts not to have their 
beards or hair taken ofl' with a razor, hut tlii)|)e(l with Hcinsors, to distiiiKui^-li them 
from those of the ilv^yptians, who, afttr (he (h'uth of A/)is\ deified au<l worshipped 
by them, had not only their heads, but their whole bodies shaved, that in their sa- 
crifices they might be pure. Moreover according to Bede, in his Church-history, 
l>y shavins; the head is meant a renouncing" superHuous riches (which priests, by 
their institution, arc punctually (o observe) and that hair is to be accounted but as 
a superfluity of the body, And in (his sense speaks Ilicroiiyinus, that as the 
priest has his head shaved, so he ought also to cut and cast off superfluous riches 
and earthly desires, and that by the little hair left is signified, that they must be 
content with small provision for supporting their mortal bodies. Others add, that 
the little hair left on their heads, in (he form of a crown, denotes the crow n of eter- 
nity, with which, after their conflicts, they were to be rewarded. 

But as for (he law couunanding to cut the hair round and to shave the beard, 
many think it proceeded from (he abominable abuse of the heathens, who offered 
their own hair, and that of their children, to the devil. 

On the other hand, divers councils decreed, that the priests, in imitation of the 
Nazariles, should keep their hair and beards, and let them grow, with intention 
that, by seeing and feeling (he same, they might always remember their duties. 
Wherefore they did not shave, but clip their hair with scissors, that it might not 
over-grow. But to return to the Itomans. 

Nuina Poivpiihis, their second king and a priest, when he could no longer alone 
bear the weight of the government, and discharge the duties of the priesthood, 
instituted three priests called Flamines; the first in honour to Jupiter Capitolinus ; 
the second to Mars; and the third to Romulus Quirinvs. Their dress was much 
like that of (he present Romish clergy in their service. On their heads they had a 
white hat, with an olive sprig upon it, at the extremity whereof appeared a turf of 
wool taken from a sacrificed sheep. This hat was called Albogolerus. 

Afterwards Numa ordained twelve other priests, called Salii, in honour to Mars 
the conqueror, protector, avenger, and peace maker. These were dressed in long 
loose garments or coats, having a breast-piece of copper enriched with gold, silver, 
and divers precious stones. The solemnities growing numerous, and at length 
amounting to above thirty thousand, Numa increased the number of priests accord- 
ingly- He created the Feciales, and Pater Patratas, who proclaimed war; also the 
Epvlones, or overset^rs of all sacred banquets, and Augures or soothsayers, whose 
authority was so great, that the Senate could not assemble without their consent. 
They had all particular garbs, except when they officiated, at which time their dress 



150 Of the Tainting of Ceilings^ or Plafonds, 

was alike, beins,' a garment of white linen, very wide, and reaching to their heels, girt 
with a girdle and buckle al)Oiit their bodies. This garment they called Gabinus. 

And as Fidelity ought to be close, that is, the matters we are instrusted with must 
be kept secret, pure, and inviolable, Numa ordered that the high-j>riest, in offering 
to Fidelity, (shonld keep his right hand covered with a white garment, as Tcrlulliun 
observes, to signify that Sincerity ought to be preserved simple and upright, and that 
it is sacred to the right hand, since we are to assert it with ahicrity. Virgil likewise 
intimates, that the firmness of Sincerity is signified by the right hand, as a pledge 
or assurance: wherefore Dido, in his fourth iEneid, complains — " Alas! These are 
the gilded words and promises of the son, who, as is; said, carries with him sacred 
things and household gods."' And in his third iJ-^neid we read — " Father Anchises 
himself gives the dejected youth Achcmcnides the right hand, as a token of his sin- 
cerity to him."' And, in another place, Amata says to JLatinus — " Where is your sin- 
cerity? Were the former care for your kindred, and your word and hand so often 
given to your nephew Tnrnusr Virgil also calls Fidelity white and grey ; meaning, 
according to Servius, that sincerity is most found in old people, who are grey antj 
white. Horace complaining of the wickedness of his own times, says. That Sincerity 
dressed in white is little worshipped : adding, that in the offering to it, the High- 
priest keeps not only the right hand covered with the white garment, but also his 
head, and almost his whole body, to shew that the heart and will ought to be pure 
and immaculate, and always to accompany sincerity. Wherefore Aristo also says. 
Sincerity was formerly represented in a white dress. 

Pelronius reports that JSutna himself, for a badge of priesthood, wore a small linen 
cap, like the priests and soothsayers in their services; as did likewise the wives and 
maid-servants of the Roman priests, called Flamines. 

The hat, also, among the ancient Romans, denoted the sacerdotal dignity ; for the 
Flamines took their names fromPileusorbat,asif they would say, Pileamines: though 
others are of opinion, their name is derived from Flammeum, which among them was 
a head ornament; for the bishop-like caps, long coats, and garments, were, as I hav« 
said, pectiliar to the priests. The authority and credit of the illustrious Fabius 
Pictor induces us to believe this, when he says. That the priests, or Flamines, were 
not allowed to appear publicly without the hat or cap, but that in their houses they 
were at their own liberty. A custom to this day strictly obser\'ed in many places 
by the Romish prelates. ■ ' • hmh viwi'.'A j'mi; f*o .! ;- > 

Infina was a fine white linen garment, with' which the priest and victim were co- 
vered. 

When the vestal vii^ins offered, they were dressed in a long and wide vestment 
of very fine white linen, calle<l Sussibulura. Their heads were likewise wound 



Of the Painting of Ceilin^x, or Plofonds. 151 

with a white o;nrmeiif, and over it was a veil of white linen hanging down sqtiare, 
and coniinj;- over their eheeks, and fastened lUKh-r the chin witli a clasp or buckle; 
wherefore they were caHed Vestals, froui the word Vestis. The Romish women 
wear to this day ionpf veils, pretending to imitate the virtuous ancient matrons, who 
covered their heads, n* cks, and breasts witli thern, and ktpt themsc Ives so chaste 
and reserved, as never*t^ ^epferite''frdlin tiieir husNands, nor giving the least opportu- 
nity for evil. 

Besides the before-mentioned dre^es, the pjiests had divers implements, and sa- 
cred vessels for offerings, viz. 

Pni'fericulnin, a vessel of brass, wide on top, and without a handle. 

Patinu, or Patera, a dish or platter, whereon the priests saved the blood of the 
victims. 

Achdiia, another small vessel in the form of a cup, in which they saved the drop- 
pings of the wine ;it the offerings. 

Accrra, was a small box in whicli the perfume was kept. 

Emluhns, was thqtAvUle ^'ib^reon Ijiy the sacred things; whence the utenssils, apd 
other materials for th<' lofte.rings, were eddied Enditbnu. On this table they laid the 
beast to be ofl'ered, cut open and stretched out, caicfully turning with a knife, and 
inspecting the entrails, to wit, heart, luugs, and liver, in order to prognosticate future 
events to tiie counnoii and silly people.., .^iusffinias reports, that the Greeks ob^eryejj 
tlie same methods in.theiriacritices,, ,; ,.-k,tt,, ■ ..,...•.. 

Cecespita, so vailed, a Secando, from cuttjng, was a pretty long knife, having a 
round ivory handle tipped with gold and silver, and studded with copper. With 
this they cut the victim's throat. 

Stnippi was a bundle of herbs, called Verhnna, mixed with laurel, myrtle, and 
olive sprigs. They were of opinion, that these presaged happiness and prosperity in 
their offeriniis ; they even used them in their puritiicatious, filling also and making 
pillows thereof for their imagined deities. 

Aspergillum, or holy-water-sprinkle, was made of sprigs and leaves of hyssop, 
which in a marble vessel, called Labrum, they placed at the entrance of their tem- 
ples (according to the present Roiniah custom), and with which they sprinkled the 
by-stantlers and congregation. 

They had divers other rites, which for brevity I shall pass over. What I have 
s^d is only to let artists see bow diligently they ought to consult history, that by that 
means they may in their pro<luctions follow antiquity in all its particulars, and so 
duly ordered and represent things, that lovers may say with applause — nothing i| 
wanting. ,8^nidi '^'^rlJ ni nssiqxs oa oi diulqn -<» 

'^ ♦ iRfiJ tfi "BNiy-OF BOOK IX. '; eJis. sajdi .hsot-nw ^ 3<i.*w»« 



THB li ,>.\lii'.-i^f bilho ^-yif fill J -noliiMMl! /f 



i« 



.1 
'» l)')noi)noiif 



ART OF PAiwTiNd:r«;)', !.■■':;;!; 

BOOK X. 

OF STATUARY. ^J«H l. 

EMBLEM CONCERNING STATUARY. , 

■ \ 

A YOUNG and sturdy maid, having a hard look, stands with her right leg on a 
square plinth, and the left on a globular body. Her garment is light grey, fastened 
above the knee with a button, and tucked up behind. Before, she has a sheepV 
fleece tied about her waist. Her sleeves are turned up above the elbows. On her 
left arm she holds the figure of Decorum; and in that hand a chisel, pair of com- 
passes, line, and square ; and in the other a mallet. Her locks and tresses are 
tied behind with a broad fillet, which comes about the head, whereon appears a 
small altar, and an eagle grasping thunder. 

CHAP. I. 

OF STATUARY IN GENERAL. 

Before we proceed to the qualities and operations of Statuary, we shall, as an in- 
troduction, say somewhat of its antiquity. 

Deedahis, as famous for architecture as statuary, was of royal extraction. Cad- 
mus himself, to whom Thebes owes its rise, was a king's son. As those sciences 
then take their origin from the ancient Greeks, I shall not trace their inventors down 
to the remains of the Israelites, nor to those who bestowed their art on the costly 
and magnificent temple of Solomon, the cherubims, and ornaments of the ark, or the 
vessels consecrated to worship : Scripture is so express in these things, that we 
must be convinced, these arts were also in great use at that time. 



OfSlatuary. 1.53 

Tlio vast pains is known, wliich the rhildicMi ol' Sel/i took, in cnfjiavinff and (ranti- 
jnitliiiu; to posterity (lieir inventions and sl^ill in astronomy on two columns ; one 
made of Uaked elay, and tlie otin-r of stone, in order that that art, ihreat'-ned willi 
destruction hy tiie Hood and violent waters, tni;;ht nMuain entire to future a'^es ; and 
that after tiie ilood P/otnrt/iciis, son of Japlicl, was the first inventor of imajjes, 
whieh hasi;iveii rise to all tlie fables and -fietions oJ" the poets. The Assi/naus and 
Clialdeaiis had knovvledii^e in statuary, as we gather from Lithane having hoiisehoM 
gods, whieh his daughter Rachel stoh? from hinl ; and aftiirwards from the Jeia 
making a golden calf in the Wilderness, by Mount (SV«ai, for worshij). 

The heathens applied themselves to inquiries into arts with very good success. 
Nmus, son oi' JicJus, in Scripture c;illed A7;h/o(/, tlie first king of yi.«.s7/;vV/, innnor- 
talized his fathers memory, by building to his honour a temph; embellished with 
statues, and especially with the idol Jiaal, in order to be worshipped. The oije- 
lisks, or pyramids, brought to Rome by Augustus out of Egypt, are standing evi- 
dences of the greatness of that people in their works. 

The anciiMit statuaries instruct us in a thousand pretty inventions and circum- 
stances in history, which they unriddle; teaching us the customs, worship, difl'erent 
dresses, arms, &c. of tiie ancients ; things very well worthy of our study. 

It is likewise not for want of judgment that the antique statues are proposed t(» 
us as the most perfect models of elegance and symmetry, because the age wherein 
Alexander lived was the most perfect we know of for carrying arts and sciences 
through the emulation of that time, to the highest degree of perfection : in order to 
■which, they began with painting and statuary, framing soJiie patterns, from whence 
might be laid down certain and positive rules, not to be departed from without 
spoiling- order and beauty. The famous statuaries of those times therefore employed, 
their whole wits in prosecuting the work unanimously, and endeavoured to make 
exact inqviiries into the beauty of nature, and what shape aud proportion the several 
parts of liie body ought to have, in order to form thereout an entire perfect and har- 
monious whole : yet it being impossible for them to bring all the collected parts into 
one and the same object, they concluded to choose the principal and most beau- 
tiful parts out of several bodies, in order to compose from them different perfect 
figures, to serve posterity for patterns and models. 



VOL. ir. 



154 Of Statuary. 

CHAP. II. 

OF THE EXECUTION OF STATUARY. 

OTATUARY IS an imitation of nature, performing its work by a strong motion of the 
body and doxterity of the hands. It consists in the symmetry or exact division 
of tlie obji'Cts, according to the particular qualities, especially in human figure 
(wlierein it most excels), and next in quadrapeds ; all relieved and conformable to 
the life. 

Its other performance concerns the bass-relief, or half round work, according to 
its dift'erent qualities, as we shall hereafter explain. 

The materials for statuary are of five sorts, and each of a particular nature and 
quality. 

The first is clay. 

The second, wax. 

The third, wood. 

The fourth, ivory. 

The fifth, stone. 

The two first arc worked with wooden tools, and the rest with sharp irons; and 
each material requires a particular handling. From the first, something is taken 
off; to the second, something is added ; in the third, is cutting ; in the fourth, scrap- 
ing; and in the last, driving, or thrusting, according to the nature of the matter, 
either soft or hard, solid, dry, or brittle. 

In a human figure, or other creature, statuary first sketches its thoughts on 
paper, making choice of the most beautiful side, and then takes clay, and sets those 
conceptions upright, and as like the design as possible. The figure being now 
roughtd out with the proper tools, or rather with the fingers, the life is set to the same 
posture, in order to finish after it ? and being brought to this forwardness, the artist 
proceeds gradually round, till all sides are finished, and nothing is wanting. The 
work standing in this condition for some time to dry, is afterwards baked in an 
oven, and then may serve as a model for carving in marble or other matter. 

The essence of this art lies in a beautiful form, and a neat or distinct representa- 
tion of the things we would make, whether human figures, beasts, or other objects ; 
of which, the principal are figures and bass-relief. 

The first considers man, woman, and child, of all ages: as likewise portraits or 
busts. 
The second respects the horse, camel, elephant, lion, and other beasts. And, 



Of Slat I/art/. 15.5 

The last. Vfgards iho. poarock, eafjlc, ravt-n, owl, and ollirr siirli rroatnrfs orrm- 
ring ill (liis art; all n'(|iiiiiii,i,^ an exact knowledge. 

S< cin^- tlurcforc that so many things are ucjcessary to he understood, I think it 
of till' last conse(|nence, that thuartiKt, before be begin seulpture, l>e well a((|iiaint<-d 
with the grounds of drawing, and for two reasons; first, in hopes of honour and 
advantage; and secondly, for fear of prejndicc and reproach. These two consider- 
ations always attend the master, and one of them unavoidably <lepeuds on his know- 
ledge and performance. For as the work is of great consequence and charge, as 
well in the materials as tools, and slow process, so if it succeed well, it brings repu- 
tation and gain, otherwise, greater loss and blame. 

A true artist ought not to be without the following works, Aiz. The statues of 
Perrica, — the Iconology of Ccesar Ripa, — OudoMus Romaii Might, and otlier books 
of antiquities ; also the principal histories, but chiefly, I^es Charactercs des Pas- 
sions, by INIonsieur de la Chambrc, and other authors on the same sid)ject ; together 
with those of dresses, and of beasts and other animals. And for practice, he ought 
to be furnished with plaister figures, bass-reliefs, medals, busts, bands and feet, lions 
and lionesses, sphinxes, term.s, and many other things, which are to be Ix^ught ; a.^ 
likewise models of wax and clay, and on paper. 

CHAP. III. 

OF BASS-RELIEFS. 

J- HAT I may proceed in an orderly manner, I shall begin with bass-reliefs, of which 
there are three sorts, viz. almost relief, half relief, and faint, or flat : and the differ" 
ence of these ought to be well considered, as they have three particular intentions in 
their proportions or divisions. 

The first sort, or almost relief, is commonly used in deep niches, with figures in 
fidl proportion, having three grounds behind one another ; the foremost figures are 
almost relief, the second half relief, and the third somewhat less. 

The second sort, or half relief, is used in shallow square niches, frontispieces, cir- 
cular-headed upper doors, and niches. This has two grounds or depths ; the first is 
half relief, and the second somewhat fainter. 

The third sort is proper for friezes, pedestals, balustrades, and medals. This has 
but one depth, or a single Hgure on one ground. 

In their arrangement, four things are to be observed. 

1. That the principal figure of the work have its full relief, and those of the least 
consequence most faint, and sticking to the ground. 

x2 



156 Of Statuary. 

2. Tlmt the greatest motion and action of the figures be always iii profile, yei 
without any fore-shorteninu; of the members. 

/J. That the setting- on of the ])rojerfiuii- parts appear natural, not forced. 

4. That the work be ecpially divided an<l distribuled e\ery where alike, not too 
full in one part, and too empty in another; which is a point of great importance. 

Although these bass-reliefs seem chiefly to concern statuaries, yet they as much af- 
fect painting, on account of the particular relation the two arts have to each other, 
in tliat one cannot be perfect without the other. The statuary borrows Croni the 
painti-r the d«'sign or disposition for the ground of his work, which he afterwards puts 
ill |)i;i(ti(e : the painter, on the other hand, learns of the statuary the method of mor 
deiiinu, as nercssarilv serving for a foundation in the performauce of bass-relief. 
^\ In rtfore 1 think a painter cannot possibly paint a good one, unless he understand 
something of modelling ; nor a good statuary give satisfaction, without having some 
skill in painting. 

A judicious master ought to be exact in ordering these bass-reliefs, that each re- 
ceiviii2; its proper light, all may ajipear distinct, and without the least alteration. 
Sun-shine or sharp sJiades make things look otherwise than they really are, by the 
mis-shapen ground-shades which on these occasions are seen in nature; when the 
work being much raised, has many deep hollows. 

A large and universal light is most advantageous for the first sort, or almost 
relief. 

A liglit somewhat more from tlie side is most proper for the second, or half-relief; 
because it has but few risings, and the work is therefore more free from ground- 
shades. And, 

A direct side light is best for the third or fainter sort, as giving it great decorum 
and elegance, though it be almost without shade. 

This doctrine concerning the light may possibly seem sti'ange to some, viz. that it 
ought to be governed by the btiss-reliefs, or pictures which are to stand or hang in it, 
according as they are more or less relieved. But we must conceive, that a proper 
light ought to be chosen for each sort of bass-relief, from this consideration, that 
the light is not equally good every where : here suits a bass-relief in a deep niche, 
there one less rising, and here again one that is quite tlat ; the one being thus lighted 
from a-side, and the other fronting. JNevertheless, it must not be thought, that ac- 
cording to the make of the room, the disposition of the windows, and the places 
fixed for a niche on each side of the chimney, it is in our choice to have in one of 
those a bass-relief of three grounds, and in the other one of two grounds, or one ; 
because that which is nearest to the windows receives a more fronting light than the 
other: wherefore they ought to be alike hollow and raised. By a proper light, we 



(Jf Stafuarii. 167 

moan lliat (ho work inusf be so ordered, that (-adi pail, acrordint; ((» its lij;lit; ^;et a 
!;o()(l (h'coiiiiM. I'or iiislaiice, in the foinHT niche, wlifn-flic li^nns are ninch raided, 
they caiuiol ffive such hir^e ^ronMd-slia«h's, siiM.e the hf^lit falls on them a little fiuiit- 
ing-, bnt it may happen in the other, when! tin; light comeH more from the .side; un- 
Jess yon placed the figures whicl) in one niche are on the right side, in the other ou 
the h'ft, therehy (<> prevent the superflnous shades, eleganlly reconcile the diflerence 
of the lii;hls. 

The Itass-reliefs in shallow niches with two grounds, require as nice an observation 
and the same condnci as is necessary in friezes, |)edestals, and medals. 

JMany err in placin*;- bass-reliefs in friezes of chimneys, on pedestals and over room- 
doors, even upon the breasl-work of the chimney itself, si-tlinj:; there more than half 
relieved, nay, whole relieved figures; as I once saw an ulmosl relief on a single 
ground in a chimney-frieze. In my opinion, it is very improper to make figures of 
nine inches length so very distant from each other, and so little draperiid rsonutimes 
a figure has scarce three or four folds); the work looking then, (to sjieak in painter- 
like terms) more like a smooth dead-colouring, or rather old and worn out, than new 
made, and slioidd by right be executed as faint and fine again. I have observed that 
painters, in representing bass-reliefs in such places, avoid all large shades as much 
as possible, esjjecially in friezes, pedestals, and other flats; it being, in my f)pinion, 
very proper that lliose parts of architecture keep their (latness ; and as all ornaments, 
viz. capitals, foliage, modillions, triglyphs, and the like, are in such case connnonly 
performed neat and curious, so our figures ought likewise to be perfectly finished. 

Some keep too much to the great manner: but the smaller the things are, espe- 
cially within doors and near, the neater they nnist be: for without-doors the case is 
different, because they receive light from all sides, and are less set ott", be they 
ever so much raised. Wherefore statuary joined to architecture, in such manner as 
it ought to l)e, is the business of a judicious artist, and for which no oue is qualified 
without great practice. 

As this study concerns a painter as well as a statuary, I shall shew the former in 
liow many different manners a bass-relief may be painted : and seeing the most ex- 
peditions is always the best, I shall lay down that which by experience I have found 
to be the best. 

First I paint my cloth neat and even with such a colour as my bass-relief requii-es, 
whether \\hite, grey, red, yellow, 8a>. between light and shade, or in second tint. 
Drawing my composition on this ground, I correctly and slrougly trace it oxer with 
black lead, and aft( r rub it with a dry cloth, that it may stick f:ist,and resist ihe var- 
nish without muddling. Then I varnish it all over and proceed to paintiug; first 
the shade, and then tlie second tint against it; leaving the ground for the light, and 



1j8 Of Statuary. 

unitinu,- the sliade with the second tint airily, without softening- them with a fitch, I 
scnnilile the second tint, either with a finger or stifl" pencil into the ground. Then I 
take another tint, as dark as my model directs, and with it give a ground behind my 
figures, lea\ ing the work on the right side without the least relief. Being to finish, I 
rub the whole work, or as much as I can do at once, with a lighter tint than the first 
ground, and so very thin and even, tliat every thing may appear throiigh it; observ- 
ing here, that the white must be very stifi', and thinned only with turpentine. Oa 
this wet ground I clap my main lights, which then, as well as the shades, will gradu» 
ally unite with it, without touching each other. 

The second and third sorts may be easily finished up at once (the re-touching ex- 
cepted), as having luitlier ground-shades nor hollows ; the method is this. My cloth 
being prepared as aforesaid, I first heighten, scumi)ling the main light into the wet 
ground, which by the running of the turpentine oil, is become somewhat tacky : I 
do the same with the shade, leaving the ground in this condition for the second tint. 
If the work is to be very neat, I rub it over with a good varnish mixed with some fat 
white oil, that it nray not dry so soon, and that 1 may with ease, and as long as I 
please paint upon it, heightening on the most relieved parts, and giving dark touches 
in the hollows, scumbling also here and there some smalt with a soft fitch, and some 
yellow in the reflections of the shades. If the back-ground ought to be a little darker, 
now is the time for doing it, because then it will no more go in. 

The last sort needs no other ground than the first; and it ought to be neat and 
clean ; because the light on one side, and the shade on the other, make the work re- 
lieve and rise sufficiently : yet, let us observe, that as often as we paint or re-touch, 
it must be rubbed over with varnish, or at least where necessary, to prevent its going 
in: for such is the nature of varnish, that it will bear but one painting; otherwise 
the work sinks presently. 

We shall now shew what is to be observed in painting figures in deep niches; a 
work not to be performed either with respect to tiie figures or ground-shades, with- 
out due knowledge in perspective, whatever ajiplause ignorants may get from those 
who do not understand it. 

His blunder was great, who painting a figure in a niche with a stick in his hauil, 
shewed the ground shade of the stick very plainly on the hollow of the niche, but 
gave none to the leg which supported the body, save a little on the plinth next the 
foot. Most sad conduct! Another simple young fellow, seeing his master paint a 
grey figure in a niche, and being told that the ground shade was of much importance, 
and ought also to correct, and being at the same time shewn the model it was painted 
by, went immediately and got a niche made : but, for want of a figure he borrowed 
his master's, and set in the niche, tracing therein the ground-shade with black lead 5 



Of Staluani. l.^f) 

agreeable to wliicli, he gave all liis fifiiirt's, in wliat action soever, the Kanir kiouimI- 
shade. 

JNow it is ccrliiiii, thai lliiMn;s |);iiiil((i on (irni [tlarf-H mifrjil, tliat th< y may lorik na- 
tural, to have their propi r groiind-shadiH, accorditig to llie reliif; well ohsrrving, 
1. AV hence they receive their light, fronting or sideways. 2. How far tlu-y are from 
the lii;lit, in order to determine; a.s one somewhat short, sharp, and strong, a^ heing 
near the light, and the others longer, fainter, and more melting, in proportion as they 
go ofl" from it. 

As a furtherance to the artist, I shall treat somewhat of the painting on wooden 
vases, urns, cisterns, and the like, or on other smooth objects. 

As things painted on smooth objects, standing in large and wide |)laces, can have 
no relief or projecture on the sides when seen fronting; so rising and projecting or- 
naments, such as raised figures, lions-heads, festoons, and the like, are very impro- 
per and unnatural on them, unless being fixed and immoveable, they were seen 
but from one side ; for then you may paint as strong and relieved things upon them 
as yon please, avoiding the side going off, since the smooth roundness of the figure 
does not admit it. The moveable objects which are used, and seen from all sides, 
must have a fronting light, and be painted very flat or faint, and with no rising 
swells ; and the ground, of what colour soever it is, be laid in such a manner, that 
what is painted on it, whether figure or other object, be set off by a dark tint in 
its outline, and this to be darker or lighter, as it ought to be more or less rounding : 
yet the main light must be somewhat stronger than the ground. 

As to the colours, there are many which agree well together ; Lapis Lazuli inlaid 
with gold ; also green serpentine with white, as marble or plaister ; touchstone, por- 
phiry, agate, and others. On wood of any sort suits ivory-work, provided the 
former be not of too light a colour, like palm or olive tree. In the use of gold, it 
ought to be laid on such a tint as you think fit, so as it maybe heightened with shell- 
gold on the most relieved parts, and afterwards varnished. 

In these countries (IloUond) statuary is of small account. Little advantage is to 
be gained by marble or other stone : and though here and there in a garden or other 
place, a figure or child is to be made in free-stone, yet that is too trivial for a good 
master. But it is otherwise in Italif, where there are so many magnificent buildings, 
and mostly enriched with carving and statuary. In fine, that country is a land of 
promise to one who understands his business. He gets money, and has the esteem 
of the great. On this account a statuary in our country ought to be somew hat ac- 
quainted with painting, as being obliged to make a virtue of necessity. I knew one 
who for this reason applied so much to painting, that he changed the stone into cloth, 
and his chissels into pallet and pencils : for, said he, People here will scarce pay for 



160 Of Statuary. 

clotli, iimoli less lay out so imicli money for a block of marl)Ic. If is certain they 
cannot always carry such iieavy baggage along with them; I speak with respect to 
those who hang their houses, galleries, halls, or apartments wiih cloths, and cause 
them to be painted with jstatues and bass-reliefs, which at any time, in case of re- 
moval, fire, or otiier accidents, they may roll up, and hang in other rooms, which 
otherwise they could not do ; at least it is better than to paint every thing on the 
walls themselves, as was the former custom ; since this country is not like Italy or 
France, where tlie painting in Fresco (as divers jjalaces and cimrches of some hun- 
dred years standing can testify) sutlicieiitly pays for trouble and cliarges. 



CHAP. IV. 

x:»r THE FORcr, property, and management or uass-reliefs, 

1 THINK an artist ought never to be at a loss for matter in this point, either for the 
pencil or ciiissel ; because it is to be furnished not only from the fables, emblems;, 
and bacehanals, but likewise from Scripture. 

1 ha\e formerly, in the book on Composition, proposed the story of Judah and 
T'/iamtir ; which, according to baes-relief management, is, with little alteration, (as 
Avell as many others) very improper for it, when you would r<^present two or three 
grounds in the same piece, (liough that story require not so much depth: and how 
line -svonld such a bass-relief become the hall either of a Jew or Christian? And if 
henin the servant and the country house were on a particular ground^ how plainly 
Mould the matter appear, if naturally expressed? For though many imagine that a 
bass-relief is in the same case with a medal, which tends only to commemorate this 
or that occurrence, or remarkable story, I must entirely deny it, since, in my opinion, 
the chief intention of the former is in an instructive manner to serve for adorning a 
building; and theplainer, more artful and intelligible, tlie better it is, especially when 
the ehoiee of subject is our own, and we can go to the expense of it. Yet painted 
bass-reliefs oiight, as well as a good picture, to have their property; as the ancients 
(who brought this art to such perfection) have sufKciently shewn in theij- tine remains, 
which are our best models. 

I agree w ith others, that without an exact observation and inquiry into antiquity, 
and (he connncnts thereon, wliich some ingenious men have left us, we shoidd be 
a1mo><t strangers to the hieroglyphic sense of the antique bass-reliefs ; or many of 
them are so foreign and dark, that we can scarce apprehend what the ancients woidd 
«ignioify by them. 



Of Statuary. 16 1 

Wo sliall tlicrc'forc make some remarks on tin- loii«; ;ind small, yet fine bass-nlicf 
of Mekagcr killed by his motber, wben sbe burnt the fatiil wood. It is eerlain 
that this story is faintly represeotcd ; but, iumy opinion, the master has omitted the 
.bustle and violent stir of MeJeager's body, in order to preserve the elegance of th<- 
action. I fmd it also not stranjje, that few can uiidt.i>5tand this .story w itliout some 
writing under it. We there see the Parca;, or three fatal sisters, but nothing of the 
mother ; and though we suppose Diana to be present and niourning, yet that cir- 
cumstance does not fully clear the meaning. Mclcai^er should rather have had his 
hunting equipage and dogs by him, in order to point out his person and inclinations. 
And though the burning of the wood seem in some measure to express the matter, 
yet I think it too neatly cut and smooth, and should be more like a fire brand. But 
my greatest wonder is, at the absence of the mother Althea; she who was a prin. 
cipal person, a great princess, and acted this tragedy out of revenge, and seeing it 
is one of the greatest effects of a revengeful temper, to triumph in the presence of 
those who are overcome. Moreover, we see no active passions rule in any part of 
the composition. Nor can I say who the woman sitting by him is, whether his mo- 
ther, Diana, Alalatila, or who else: I cannot believe she is his mother, because he 
seems to be as old as she. Moreover, we do not perceive in hiin any motion of a 
person in pain. Nor can I apprehend the design of the face on the round board 
below on the ground, it not being a medal for ornament, though doubtless placed 
there by the artist for some reason. Some think it represents rage or trouble, or 
else fire, because the hair seems to be flaming. But the matter might have been 
better expressed by a pressing of the eyes, struggling of the arms and legs, contrac- 
tion of the nose, mouth, fingers, and toes, and the trouble and pain of the dying per- 
son ; whereas here we see nothing like it ; but, contrarilv, he seems to die very 
quietly, as his arms lying close to his body at full lengtli sufficiently shew. Beside^;, 
it is against the rule of emblems to admit of any aid, where the fact can be per- 
formed by the person himself, much less the addition of two or three figures to ex- 
press the meaning, uidess they be statues ; such as tyranny with 2\tro, ambition with 
Alexander, valour with Scipio, and so forth. 

It is true that painters used formerly, before they were acquainted with expressing 
the passions iu the face and gestures, to write them on scrolls proceeding from the 
figures nwuths, that they might thereby be understood ; but as artists are now more 
enlightened, it would certainly be very improper to set a cock or spur by a man 
sitting or standing, in order to shew his industry, or a srull by another, in order to 
sl>ew that he is dead, &c. 

By these observations it is apparent that our Meleager should rather have been 
known by a fine action and motion ; since the chief end of a representation is to 

VOL. II. V 



l62 Of Statuary. 

express naturally, and with enerc:y, the nature of the matter; and this may as well 
be done in buss-relief as painted, if the story reqviire it. Nevertheless we must ob- 
serve, that there are some passions which do not work externally, and ought to be 
expressed by additions, in order to make then) intelliirihle ; such n)ay be Charity^ 
Mercy, Piety, Liberality, and the like: but Anger, Madness, or Rage, Pain, 
Smart, &c. (which disturb the body as well as the mind, by irritating the members) 
do not require emblematic figures or additional explanations. 



CHAP. V. 

OP THE DRAPERIES OF STATUES AND BASS-RELIEFS. 

Among the Greek statues, we find none bul what seem to be dressed in one sort 
of stuff; and these are the models for a good statuary or painter to govern himself 
bv. But a portrait, which is likewise an ornamental image, must never be like a 
statue or stone figure, though white and painted with a single colour ; even were 
Ovid with his train of metamorphoses present. No fine disposition of folds is here 
the advantage : if the stuffs be not like those of the Greeks, they are not proper for 
stone, and seem less congruous with antiquity. 

Let ns therefore not flatter ourselves, that we can make any improvements, by 
seeking new stuffs for our figures ; nor rely too much on the dexterity of our hands, 
that how brittle soever the stones are, we can work them and perform any thing, even 
folds as thin as paper, small flying draperies, loose hairlocks hanging on a thread, 
&c. But rather imitate the Greeks, in the thinness, pliability, and looseness of their 
draperies, that the beautiful sway of the nioviug parts be not obstructed, but plainly 
perceived under them ; unless, in the case of old people, who, because of their stifT- 
ness, may be dressed in coarse cloth ; and yet not as seeming to be a mere dress 
without a body, but sitting close to it, so as to discover the principal parts, with the 
end hanging loosely down, not sticking out. 

Flyins; draperies have no place among statues, or bass-reliefs : and though the latter 
represent histories, yet such draperies are not proper in them, unless on the second 
or third grounds; where then they may be fixed against the ground, and be no hind- 
rance. 

In a medal little relieved, or on urns or vases, where flying and running figures 
can be represented in all sorts of histories, we may freely make as many of those 
draperies as we please ; because, as we said in the third chapter, the principal mo- 
tion ought alwavs to be in profile, either on a single or second ground. 



Of Statuary. ife 

I willingly allow the Greeks to be llio iiivciilors of loose draperies, a« Leitig the 
Uiosttasy; but that fluicforr \\i; may npt, ;uo>V,,Ktiitiiary is :irrivc<i at such perfec- 
tion, make use of all sorts of stuffs (which is a thing possible) seems to me very 
stranj^a' : for it is cerlaiu, that all things through long practice improve, and we daily 
discovta- and see what was formerly unknown, lic^ides, there are few laws which 
are not capable of amendment or enlargement; and though, as the proverb says. 
Old people are seldom bettered by younger, yet it happens in some things, espe- 
cially in this art. I speak here of laws only by way of comparison. Pray observe, 
how little the famous liennni at Rome has tied himself up to the Greek antiquities. 
By the force of his judgment he has surpassed them ; he has gone such lengths, 
that it was indifl'erent what he met with, whether flying, running, lying, standing, 
naked, or drest figures : ho did every thing, not like the Greeks in a stone-like mail' 
ner, but with draperies flying, folding, and swinging, as if they were a live p<'ople; 
and those with beautiful and broad folds, sometimes loose, at others set thick or 
thin, tenderly and agreeably worked as art reqiures. But what am I saying.' we 
need not go abroad for examples: what fine draperie^ h^ not the famous statuary 
Keyzer made. It is certain he did not merely follow the antique; thinking it below 
his character to beat the common road ; besought the plus Ultra, in order to go 

Woi"l- •.oJi.-.i.i^ Lt'i.Oi.£ii;u:'i -i \r,\) ,f)i,';Jrj. 

Add to these the great master Franmco Quhtoy, whom I do not name as dis- 
commending others,^ by passing them by in silence, but as an excellent pattern for 
shewing us a way to void of error and reproof: for by saying, that /fer«/wi performed 
what the Greeks never did, I mean that he dressed his figures in thick and thin 
stuffs, in order to give them as it seems more motion; the draperies swinging, flying, 
and ruffling, according to the liberty allowed to any master who can perform it. 

It may possibly seem to some, that I am trampling antique glory under foot ; but 
I declare I have no such intention : though I know that if some persons had the 
option, either to be a Praxiteles, or Phidias, or a Dutch Kei/zer, or Ronwn Bernnii, 
they would chuse to be the last ; and, for this reason, that art has in these later ages, 
met with improvements unknown to antiquity. But, after all, I must say in refer- 
ence to the judgment I have made, that though it be in our choice to represent any 
Stufl'we can perform, yet as long as we find none more beautiful, proper, or fine, than 
those v'hich the Greeks have left us for examples, I think we ought to follow them. 
(As to what is flying, swinging, blowing, or folding, (which is very improper in 
statutes, as we have said) I shall leave that point to Beniini, and not follow 
either Kei/zcr or QuelUn : but were I to do that honour to any person, it -would be 
to Francisco Qneuoy. 

But let me not by any means persuade artists to imitate the particular manner 

Y 2 



164 Of Statuun/. 

of this or that master ; for every one has the liberty of rluising for himself, and I 
preserve mine. What 1 have advanced is only a whet for the judicious, by making 
further inquiries. 

It is a great fault in artists to fix their thoughts on a single part of a figure, such 
as an elegant neck, handsome shoulder, back finely muscled, or beautiful thigh» 
which they work with the greatest application and pleasure, in order to give it a soft- 
ness ; and, if that succeed well, they are perfectly charmed with it; insomuch that 
we may often perceive in what part their greatest delight lay. Heuce it frequently 
happens, that the parts of the same figure are very unlike in goodness; and the 
hands and feet, nay sometimes the face, bungled for the sake of a well finished back. ' 
It must be granted, that the principal parts arc of the most importance ; yet we are 
not ignorant, how much the lesser can either set off or deform a beautiful figure. 
What is a fine naked with poor hands and clumsy feet ? Why was Vati Dyke so 
famous for his portraits, but for having as much regard to an hand as a face? To 
an expert workman it is indiflerent, whether he cut a block of marble, or make a 
model in clay ; save that the former requires more time. 

But, after all, this choice of handling and neatness is of no moment, if the figure 
be not well set or designed, because the greatest perfection lies in a conjunction o£ 
both. Wherefore it is certain, that if Phidias and Praxiteles had been masters of 
Bei-nini's handling and elegance, and this last, the knowledge of the Greeks, all three 
would have deserved the greater praise. 

I as readily own as I take for granted, that art owes its defects to artists them- 
selves, as well in painting and statuary, as architecture; proceeding not only from 
masters keeping their pupils ignorant of their principles, experiments, and secrets, 
but also from obstructing their advances in the art : for though it were weakness to 
think the ancients did not understand it, yet the decay must, as I imagine, be prin- 
cipally imputed to the reason I have given : from whence arose another mischief, to 
wit, an indifference in pupils for further improvements, especially in statuary. Ac- 
cordingly none will at this time seek the old path of his predecessors ; it is now 
overgrown, and become so uncertain as hardly to be found ; every man runs blind- 
fold over the heath, without knowing whether. 

We observe, that the Greeks have commonly made more naked figures than the 
Romans : which I can ascribe to no other cause, than a choice of objects agreea- 
able to their inclinations, and a desire to display their skill in the composition 
and symmetry of the parts of the human body. In their statues, they rather chose 
to represent deities, than men, and, in their bass-reliefs, rather bacchanals and sa- 
crifices than histories. The Romans, on the other hand, desirous by their statues 
and bass-reliefs to transmit the memories of their emperors to posterity, found 



Of Statunrj/. M)3 

theniselvos oMigod that tlicy mi^^lit not g<» sij^aiiist history, to dress their figurcK in 
the mode of the times. 

We shall now consider the necessary ohservafions in painting statues and hass-rt- 
liefs. It is certain, tliat they must ho very neat and white, hocanse such works in 
stone heing- botli lia/ardons, troublesome, and <ostly, were never undertaken lielore 
the artists had chosen fine blocks of marble for that purpose. Wherefore we ougl^t 
to take notice of the stones and their kinds. 

Light marble is various ; one sort entirely white, another bluish, a third flesh-co- 
lour, &c. being thus either in nature, or changed through time. They are all good 
wlieu free from spots or eyes, and appear well against proper grounds. 
• For this reason we see, that the ancients represented the best and most remark- 
able histories either in copper or white marble; as many remains on palace.*:, tem- 
ples, honorary arches, columns, pyramids, tombs, &c. can witness. Single white 
has also this advantage above the coloured paintings, that it doe."* not soon change, 
and, when it fades, as marble itself is not free from it, it is all of a colour. The 
use of it is certainly attended with much less trouble, and not less natural in co- 
lours : moreover, we may sooner (ind ten masters for this sort of painting, than 
three for colours ; because it is but a single part of the art, and remains always the 
same, and without alteration ; whereas the case of colours is quite difl'erent. The 
grey paintings represent only a wall, or piece of stone work, but the coloured 
ones shew the life itself, seen as through a window : wherefore the grey can nei- 
ther recreate nor serve for particular pictures of delight ; nor can be of fiu-ther 
use than in the places where they are set for ornament, of which they make but 
a small part; and were any thing else to be placed there, it would be but of the 
nature of the stone, and not please like a coloured picture. It is even iu the same 
case with a field in summer and winter. The north wind deadens and greys it, 
and the summer revives and makes it look green again, feeding the very soul with its 
variety of flowers. 

■ The white marble has a particular colour and tenderness ; as may be perceiv- 
ed in the mixture of colours : wherefore it is of great moment to suit it well to its 
ground. 

Between grey stone it ought only to be tempered with white and black, and soften- 
ed with light or yellow oker ; but between reddish or porphiry stone, with a little 
vermilion or Indian red, somewhat upon the flesh-colour, and this in shade a.s well 
as in the second tint. If you learn this colour from the life, your w ork will have 
the utmost agreeableness. 



166" Of Statuary. 



CHAP. VI. 

OF THE ATTITUDES OF STATUES. 

XJESiDEs the draperies of statues, something is to he observed concerning their 
sways and postures; which is a point of the greatest consequence: wherefore 
we shall in the tirst place shew what statues are; next, whether they will admit of 
any other variety than what the Greeks have assigned ; in the third place, whether 
those which since their times have been in use, are reckoned as good ; and lastly, 
whether it be not more adviseable to follow the antique and good ones, than to seek 
after new and less good. 

Amidst the infinity of motions incident to nature in general, it is observed, that 
everj- man has one particular to himself, and peculiar to his temper; one bustling, 
another slow, and a third l)etween both : and this distinction canuot but be obvi- 
ous, even to a man of small understanding, since from thence, and a propensity for 
company like ourselves, proceed either our love or aversion for this or that person or 
their actions. And if this be granted, we may be assured that tlie ancient masters 
(especially the Greeks, who was so famous for wisdom) nicely observed all thpse 
motions, as well the internal as external, and expressed them in their several works. 
Wherefore it may then perhaps be inferred, that nothing in this particular remains 
for the improvements of after ages. But let me ask, Why we should not as well 
make use of our abilities and judgments in order to go forward? I think we may, 
in other things especially ; but passing by Avhat is already done, we shall proceed to 
inquire what a statue means and signifies. 

A statue represents an idol, in human shape : an idol I say, with respect to its 
origin and use, and (as far as statuary is concerned) formed after the best propor- 
tion, either in gold, silver, or other metal, and dextrously worked by the hand and 
judgment of the artist. The uses of these are to be set in temples, courts, pa- 
laces, and other public places, but especially to adorn architecture. We find them 
as well in scripture as fables : for instance, in Mordecai, when royally arrayed he 
was led on horseback by Hamau through the city. Also in Christ, when exposed 
by Pilate to jiublic view. 

We likewise find matter for statues in profane, even recent stories : as for in- 
stance, in the late king William and queen Mary, of blessed memory, moulded 
from the life, and set up in the temple of honour, and such like. None of these 
pieces shew either active, passionate, or violent motions, but plain or grave, and 
majestic, suitable to the dignities of the persons they represent, and which we 



Of Statunnj. 167 

ought to consider as fjontlc^mon or ladifis, wlio standinj^ at the doors or windows 
to see and lu- seen by tli«' people are serious and witliont motion. WJience the prO- 
veth seems to arise, *• He stands like a stone fif?nre, or block ;" or, like a dumb 
and lifeh'ss person. 

We shall therefore consider two sorts of statues, the unactive and the moving. 
The unactive are such as stand singly in niches and on frontispieces, and tlie mov- 
ing or hustling are those which are seen in groups f)f two or three, on pedestals, 
triuni[>hal arches, and fountains. 

rSow it is certain, that tliese two sorts of statu(!S must needs have particular pur- 
poses, and therefore particular places : for the former are seen from a single stand, 
for which they are properly made, and the latter are to be viewed round about from 
all sides. But of tiiis we shall say more in the next chapter. 

As to this latter sort of statues, they receive not their appellations fn»m the persons 
they represent, but from the actions they performed, or the misfortunes they under' 
•went : and herein lies the main point, since witliout them the persons singly of them- 
selves would not be known; as in the stories of Seneca, Petiis, Laocoou, Pyramns, and 
others : and these occlirrences or accidents must be but once, and on one occasion, 
attributed to them. Suppose any of these persons were to be represented by a 
single statue, as Laocoou with a serpent, Pyramtw with a sword, &c. what difference 
would there be between one who once committed s»ich an act, or bore such a cala- 
mity, and one who in his life-time had gone through a thousand accidents, as Hercules^ 
Theseus, Acliitles, Hector, and many others who are represented by one statue? 
Wherefore we may easily concei\e, that the ancients have in every respect so firmly 
fixed and orderly disposed their postures, that there is no room left either for altera- 
tion or addition. Besides, we see that no additions of the modern masters are like 
the antique, either in quality or goodness, as is evident in the works of Quelin, Keyzer, 
Sernini, and many others, who made no distinction between statues and statues. 

If 1 seem here to contradict myself, because having in the preceding chapter set 
forth those three great masters almost above antiquity, I now place them below it, let 
it be observed, that lam speaking of statues, not of bass-reliefs; for herein they 
have neitiier excelled nor been equalled to antiquity in the beauty, air, and variety of 
draperies. 

The ancients in their statues had in view three principal conditions and natures of 
men; the gay, the heavy, and the moderate: the gay are active, full of tire, and 
slender like the Apollo ; the second are melanelioiy, slow, and listless, like the Anti- 
nous ; and the third sort is of a composed temper between both, as the Mercurius ra- 
dians, which receives its light from below. All these were etched by Perrier. We 
also commonly observe, that the active and airy are seldom long w ithout motion, 



168 0/ Statuary. 

now standiug on one leg, then on the other : accordingly the ancients represented 
such a j)ersou standing on one leg, resting little or notliiiig on the other foot ; but 
being to exhibit an iuclolcnt, voluptuous, melancholy ouf, like Antiiums, we may 
plainly discover how heavily he stands on one leg, and yet rests on the other foot, 
liis belly projecting, head hanging down, and hips excessively rising. The contra- 
rieties of these two figures are worthy of remark; one seems to fly, and the other to 
be sinking into the earth. As to the expression of the third figure, (which is a mean 
between the two sorts aforesaid) he, as a well-tempered person, is made standing firm 
on his legs, looking thougiitfully down without any turn, not too fiery or easy, nor 
loo much sunk: one hip swelling a little more than that of Apollo, and somewhat 
less than that of Antinous, and, though resting on one leg, yet appearing more firm 
than the one, and more airy than the other. 

Now as the ancients knew how to divide those three different bodies so very nicely, 
according to their natui-es and action, so we need not question but they handled all 
their other figures in the same manner : I speak in reference to their qualities, as a 
still standing Bacchus, Mars, Hercules, Saturn, &c. Even the women, goddesses, 
and nymphs not excepted ; all which proceed either in a greater or less degree from 
the three standards before mentioned : this truth is evident, not only from these ex- 
amples, but likewise from what we daily meet with, whether in models or prints. 
Let us then not imagine, that we are able to invent new actions for our statues, or 
others than those which are already found, much less that they should be better and 
more proper; but rather employ our thoughts more advantageously on other things, 
and in the mean time implicitly follow the ancients in a study so noble, and in which 
they took so much pains. 

The main point lies in the beautiful sway of a stature, well expressed according to 
tlie quality, condition, nature, and intention of it. But hereby I mean not, that we 
are obliged to imitate the actions and postures of the ancients, without the least de- 
viation : coutrarily, every man has the liberty of exercising his ingenuity: I propose 
their works only as patterns w hich I have always followed, and would have others 
do the same, without fear of being therefore called copyists, or their works copies. 
Such a moderation I think even very connnendable, since the fable of /c«rM* teaches 
us, that high-flyers have often great falls ; or, by avoiding Scylla, they get into Cha- 
rybdis. 

There still remains a necessary remark, concerning the explanatory additamentsof 
statues; and, to be brief, I shall shew their natures in three particular statues, and 
chuse out of many the<'*t<)ries and figures of J^ucretia, Dido, and Thisbe, among the 
women. Those of the men may on the same footing be easily apprehended. 



Of SUUiumj. Ifif) 

I {-oi^-cscnt these three women with daggers in their hand, to (h-iiote that they fell 
1))' those weapons. . 

J^iicrclin is grave and nmjestie. 

Dido lianghty and prond. And, 

Thisbe very plain and city-like. 

I exhibit Lucrclia thns because slie was a noldc Rommi lady, who being ra\i>lied 
hy Se.vliis Tarquinius, in discontent stabbed herself with n dagger. l\ow to make 
this known, a round shield or board, with the ravisher's head thereon, is standing 
or lying at her feet, and on her right side lies a dog to point out her faithful lo\<;. 
On the pedestal appears the whole fact. 

The second, a cjueen of great spirit, has likewise a dagger; because, on being de- 
ceived, she in spite and rage killed herself. The figure of JEneus I place near her 
and on the other side a sparrow, as the einbleni of wanton love. 

But Thisbe, in honourable affection moved, or ratiier flo<.eived, by Pyrnmuss ima- 
ginary death, stabbed herself for pure love and despair, as being unwilling to 
survive her lover. Near her on one side stands the figure of Pt/mmiis, and on the 
other two turtles. Underneath these two latter appears the fact itself, as in tin; 
first 

These I think sufficient examples for further representations ; as having sJievved 
the difference in three, which are almost conformable to each other. 



CHAP. VIL 

OF THE PLACING OV FIGURES UPON PEDESTALS, FRONTISPIECES, IN 
NICHES, AND OTHER PLACES. 

±T is evident that statuary has a dependance on architecture, and is regulated by it: 
and as figures adorn and give life to a landscape, so statuary embellishes and makes 
architecture look grand. A good landscape painter knows wlmt objects are most 
proper for a composition, and what forms they must have, whether crooked, straight, 
standing, sitting, to the left or rights in order to produce decorum, as we have shewed 
in the cliapter concerning irregular objects: and a skilful architect ought to be as 
well accjuainted with the method of setting oft' his work with figures, bass-reliefs, and 
other ornaments according to rule, that it may thereby become not only magnificent 
and elegant, but we may plainly perceive it nnist beso, and not otherwise. He should 

VOL. 11. z 



170 Of Statuari/. 

also know, why some figures ought to face, and others look from each other; •why 
these must swell or rise outwardly, those be upright or sitting, &c. 

Upon this account, the statuary ought rightly to understand the architect's inten- 
tion, ere he proceed to work; as also what figures he is to make naked or clothed, 
be they of men, women, or children, on what side they ought to rise or swell, and how 
bent ; and from what side seen, and whether they must stand high or low, and so 
forth. Being- apprised of these particulars, he is then to execute his thoughts in 
finding, according to those sways, fine actions, graceful motions, and elegant draper- 
ies, from w hence may arise a general decorum. Thus much as to these two active 
sisters. 

In relation to the third, to wit, painting, which embraces them both, as needing 
their aid, I must say, that it makes the elegancies of architecture and statuary, 
whether in history or landscape its chief study, so a judicious painter ought, for 
adorning his architecture with figures, bass reliefs, &c. to be thoroughly acquainted 
with them, that he may naturally express them with shade and colour; even so much 
as thereliy to correct the inevitable deformities still to be observed in nature. 

It is unaccountable, that among so many good architects, statuaries, and painters, 
so few have understood the right placing of statues : they sometimes hit it, but not 
upon certain principles. Wherefore we shall endeavour to clear the point in few 
words and three sketches, hoping that no oft'ence will be taken at my adapting the 
matter also to painting, since it has so near a concern therein. 

As there is nothing in nature without imperfection, so in the use of things we 
ought to proceed with judgment, in order to chuse the best for the satisfaction of our 
own eyes, as w ell as those of the knowing and lovers. 

In the placing of statues in architecture, the same regard must be had wherever 
they stand or sit. I speak not of painting alone, but what generally concerns both 
tlie arts ; statuary in the first place, and afterwards painting. See plates LXV. 
and LXVI. 

Behold the sketch in plate LXV. with attention, and my orderly disposition of the 
statues in difierent places, sufficiently to evidence in the regularity of my schemie to 
any one who has a mind to try the contrary. | 

Here you are only to observe the outlines of couples or pairs of figures, and their 
postures against each other ; for a single figure acts for itself, but a pair or couple of 
figures shews the result of both. 

1 have formerly asserted, what constitutes a beautiful action, namely, a good turn 
of the members and motion of the head, arms, hands, and feet. 

The first example chiefly concerns statuaries, who, by observing that position, 



/X/A- k,XV 




o /r Z.n'-e/Ji' "H- 



/ i^j^-nt/A^z^n y<-«/ir. 



r/a/<- li\ VI 



JS'x.Ji 




<, ./.• Z /// ,•', ■<• /■'^^ 



y. £amr^^A.,int 



Of Slatuartf. 1 7 1 

will shew that ihey understand it, and are al)le lo order and ni;ike large things a< 
well as small. 

The second example respects painters, though it he the same as the former, in nfir- 
ence to the outline ; hut with respect to shade, when we are coulined to a sintfie 
and fixed ligiit, we ought to choose a proper and advantageous one, timt tin; outline, 
as our principal purpose, may therehy maintain its force, and jjroduce the effect 
and decorum wo desire, as you see here, with its opposites. 

We have formerly said, that the outline without the shade is of no r-HVct; and 
that a beautiful action and outline may lose their force, and the gracefulness be 
spoiled by an improper light ; which deformity is very visible in sharp and broad 
lights, and more disagreeable than in moving figures. 

The third example concerns those who paint figures, bass-reliefs, and other orna- 
ments, either in white, red, yellow, or other coloured marble or stone. Here, 
observe not only the outline, as in the first example, or the same shaded, as in the 
second, but likewise the colour of the stone, as well in the shade as light: I say, 
especially in the shade, because therein appears the greatest variety, either by means 
of the air, or some other reflections. 

Another of our positions has been, that all objects retain their natural beauty 
in the shade, unless they receive reflections from other things ; likewise that white 
is the most susceptible of it, and by its cleanness easily receives whatever co- 
lour it meets with. Consider also the great diflference between the closeness and 
solidity of marble, and the thinness and transparency of linen. In the third ex- 
ample you will find that white marble, not without reason, produces yellow or 
russet shades ; wherefore you ought carefully to consult jNature, in order to imitate 
her with knowledge. 

But to return to the first example, let us observe how two opposing figures ap- 
pear in their outline. First, upon the frontispiece where these two figures swell 
outwardly, the faces either regarding or turning from each other, and the arms the 
same ; and the middlemost straight, without swell and fronting ; and those on the 
outsides also with little or no turn, as being seen only forward : secondly, the two 
figures on each side of the steps likewise swell outwardly, yet more turning than 
the others, because being also seen sideways, they ought to be beautiful from three 
sides : thirdly, the foremost figure may have as much turn and action as you please, 
and be good all round : fourthly, the figures in the niches are fronting without the 
least turn or stir, and the greatest swell is forwards. It is also very probable for 
the men to stand below, and the women above; because the woman tapers upwards, 
and therefore is more disappearing and uniting with the air ; which in architecture 

z 2 



172 Of Statuanj. 

lias a fine eflecL For this reason they formerly oftentimes set small pyramids on the 

t(ips of lionsos, instead of figures. 

'I'he uppermost figures against the sky look best naked, because of their airiness ; 
liiosi' ill niches must W massy and drest, and those below on the balustrade half 
dressed. Tluis nnich as to the first sketcli. 

The second example shews the method to be used when it happens, that the 
shade causes a visible deformity on the swelling part of a tigure, as to help it 
by the disposition of an arm, piece of drapery, or hanil ; 1 mean, in a painting 
where the light remains always the same, and to which statuaries are not tied, 
esi)ecially in the open air, because the light continually niters, but in a painting 
not ; for as things are painted they stand. This remark is worth noting as well^ 
in active as still images. 

In the third sketch, I exhibit a standing figure in a niche, and between them a 
bass viol, supposed to be of yellowish or russet wood ; wliich colour, because the figure 
is of white marble, gives strong reflections. On the side we see another figure be- 
tween the greens; and a third lying on the ground surrounded vvith the air: in all 
three I have one and the same intention, viz. to shew the cause of the mixture of 
the shades, otlierwise, the figures will sometimes seem to be made of two sorts of 
stuff', as till' light parts white, and the shades of some other colour. A due observa- 
tion of this enables us to answer for what we do. 

Although now by these positions about the stirring actions, I seem to contradict 
former ones, namely, that in painting or carving statues, we ought to give them but 
little turn, yet in fact 1 do not: 1 speak there only concerning a single figure; where- 
as here are many in company, and those set upon pedestals, fountains, and the like 
places, where they are seen from all sides, which creates a difference as well in their 
natures as circumstances. 

If I am taxed with presumj)tion for taking upon me to place figures, and set 
jiaked ones and women above, and men with those which are dressed below, I 
answer, that my conduct is founded on architecture, which intimates, that the 
fi\e orders are peculiar to five different conditions of men, as Polyphemus, or the 
giants for tiie first order; Mars, as robust or muscular, for the second ; Apollo, for 
his slenderness, for the third ; Diana, or Venus, as womanish, for the fourth ; and 
Iris, or Cupid, for the fifth. This consideration will, I think, as well embolden as 
justify me. 

To conclude this chaptei*, I shall say something concerning heads, hands, and 
feet, because I have found both here and in other parts, painters as well as statua- 
ries very imperfect in them, as if of less consideration than bodies. 

Some statuaries do not sufficiently vary their faces, making little difference be- 



ria/i^ lixvn. 








6.<ie Zaire/je in/u. 



J^. ^m/tin/i^n triz/t' 



Of Sfafiiarif. I73 

twcen yoiilh and ago, ftivinf;; also iiiiich into flu* modern way of afffftalion and ox. 
angonilioii, I mean a kind oC fondnoss in artists for a parlioniar inainicr ; as to niak*' 
the oy( -lids of their figures too large, \viiitli causos a heavy look ; and to out tin- 
dini)des on each side of the month and the hollows of the nose and iieek too «ieo|>, 
seemingly showing the fatness of women ; whereas, they ought rather to be sonie- 
Avhat mor<! oxi)r(>ssive in the nmsoles ; since, aooording to the turn of the head, those 
rise more or less, especially in thin and :\'j;v(\ people: I speak only of giving a \a- 
riety to the look and hrcasts; for, faces must not l»o always alike grave and lofty ; 
there- nmst l»e wanton ones as well as modest, large featured as well as tender, suit- 
abli- to tlie bodies ; the case is- here the same with the neck and breasts, some are 
growing, others full grown. 

Much is to be observed about the make of the hands, and .set of the feet, espe- 
cially -when naked and without sandals ; but the uiatter lies most in ordering the 
toes. The three foremost ought to be the longest, and close, turning out more or 
less with the tread of the feet ; whereas some turn thein in, the great one lying 
straight with the foot, and the rest against it, which looks very uncomely. See the 
examples in plate LXVII. and the ditlerence between them, of which the two up- 
permost shew the unseemliness, and the three others the elegance I speak of. And 
though many have casts of beautiful womeus' hands for constant use, yet these (as 
has been said of trices, breasts, &c.) cannot upon all occasions serve for the difler- 
ence of the sexes; for women have thicker and more tapering fingers, and smaller 
nails than men, Mho, according to their bulk and age have more rising knuckles than 
women. 



CHAP. VIII. 

OF THE USEFULNESS OF MODELLING. 

XXAVING, in the second chapter, spoken of modelling, which is a practice of great 
concern to a curious artist, I shall here deliver my further thoughts about it. 

The making models, whether in clay, wax, or other .soft matter, is both useful, 
delightful, and necessary for a statuary as well as painter, indeed, for all who en- 
deavour at any perfection in the art ; for by this practice (in reference to the relief of 
tilings we are to represent, whereby it seems always to have life itself) we obtain a 
lirmness, and at the same time a bold haiulling. It disburthens our thoughts;, and 
makes such lasting impressions on the mind, that we need not be at a loss about the 
life. We must be sensible of the great advantage arising from it, because we can 



174 Of Statuary. 

model ill the aforesaid bodies, bass-reliefs, foliage, and other ornauieuts from the ati- 
tiqnities, ou all sorts of olijccts, as altars, vases, dishes, cand.vsticks, cisterns, &c. 
and then paint them ^vith sucli colour as we please ; also gild or bronze them, ac- 
cording to the use we wouUl put them to. By the same means we may have store 
of elegant sword hilts and helmets, (jheelc as well as Roman, to serve on any occa- 
sion. In short, a good modeller can help himself out of any difficulties. Therefore, 
let me advise you to fall bodily to work, and make bass-reliefs, sphinxes, tombs, 
vases, or any thing else necessary in the art. You may likewise get small wooden 
dishes and pots of divers kinds turned, and prettily adorn them with wax imagery of 
satyrs faces, playing children, dancing nymphs, &c. These things may be used in 
any manner of painting, whether the piece be sun-shine, or moon, or candle-lights. 
If you would go further, you can divert yourself with modelling medals in wax, and 
oblige a friend with a cast of them. 

Many of the most famous masters have practised modelling, as sufficiently ap- 
pears in their works. The truth is, we can make any thing we want, even what 
nobody else has, and is no where to be purchased, to paint after, as from the life 
itself. 

I shall say little of the method for making models, because it is very common, 
and every man has his own way ; wherefore I shall confine myself to flat bass- 
reliefs. 

Having sketched my design on paper, as large or small as I would model it, and 
neatly worked it up with lights and shades, I take a board painted with the same 
colour and tint as my design, and with a point trace it thereon, and fill these out- 
lines with wax or clay more or less raised, as occasion requires ; then I work the 
stuff first with fingers, afterwards with a toothed tool, and lastly with a wet pencil, in 
order to make it smooth and even; which being done, and the board placed in the 
same light as our pictures are to stand or hang in, it serves for a model to paint after. 
If now we j»re to introduce it in our pieces, whether in landscapes, friezes, shallow 
niches, &c. it must be set either fronting or sloping, in such a light and at such a 
height as the point of sight directs. But if it be a bass-relief, more raised, the point 
of sight is placed in the middle of the piece ; and though the raised parts on the 
extremities will then of course happen to jump over the outline, even sometimes 
over other figures, according to the lengths of the pieces, as in a frieze and such 
like, I, to prevent that iuconvenieijce, make use of more than one point of sight. 



j'/.>f,- LN\'l\l 






fr^ 






1^,/^ Zaire/)' 



/. Ca/nt^nar't J 



OfStatuurii. 175 



CHAP. IX. 

OF THE VISUAL DECORUM OF A STATUE, MITH ITS I'EDESTAI,, AS WELL 
WITHIN AS WITHOUT DOORS : AS ALSO THE SUITING OF VASES AND 
BUSTS. 

\Ye find that the grace of the posture and sway of a fine statue arises only from 
a contrast in its outlines, from top to bottom, affecting not only the figurr, but also 
the pedestal: Avith this diflerence, notwithstanding, between naked and clothed 
figures, that an ornamented pedestal gives the former greater elegance than a plain 
one. Yet this latter sort likewise produces a fine eflfect, by observing, that the 
swells or scrolls of men's pedestals ought to be at bottom, and those of women on 
top, the course of which causes a contrast both in the forms and sexes. See plate 
LXVIII. 

If now it be asked, in the case of placing two naked figures together, viz. a man 
and a woman, as Diana and Apollo, Venus and Adonis, &c. whether the pedestals 
ought then to be represented so unlike? My opinion is, that they must not, as being 
contrary to rule and order. If both figures be men, the pedestals ought to swell at 
bottom ; if both women, on top, and if a man and a woman, both ought to be plain. 
If there be a woman between two men, the side pedestals must be plain, and the 
middle one particular to itself, and the contrary. 

Plain pedestals, though bearing dressed figures, vases, or busts, suit not between 
two columns or pilasters, at least they ought to hollow in, not swell out. 

The height of a vase, placed between two figures, must not exceed three-fourths 
of that of the figures, inclusive of the pedestal, that is, up to the breasts, and no 
higher. 

A bust, with its pedestal, should not rise above man's height, the pedestal not 
swelling out, but the contrary, as in the examples. 

Where two vases and a bust are placed in a garden between two figures, the out- 
ward pedestals ought to be of the same height with the middlemost and plain : the 
two others must hollow in or swell out according to the course of the vases, and be 
a third or half lower, yet retain the same breadth with the otiiers. 

A vase twice as high as broad, and running up straight, ought to have a square 
swelling pedestal. The contrary will produce the same decorum. 

If a bust stand between two vases, they must be level with the shoulders of the 
figure. The contrary is also good, provided the pedestal be somewhat bigger, and 
suited to the course of the vase. 



176 Of Statuan/. 

CHAP. X. 

OF THE on LAMENTS OP THE FRONTISPIECE OF TEMPLES, HOUSES, &C. 

JNoTHiNG can properly be done in statuary or painting, without due reflection: I 
speak not only of the manner and handling-, but also with respect to the circum- 
stances of things. Even a good building may abate of its lustre, by a bad choice 
in the outside ornaments. Wherefore, we shall shew what ought to be done in this 
point by what follows. 

T/ie Ornament on the Temple of 

Jiijiiter, should be an eagle grasping thunder. 

Mfl;-*, Some warlike instruments, as armour, helmet, shield, sword, arrows, and 
standards. 

Vhccbiis, A sun in the centre of the zodiac, with the twelve signs. 

Vallas^ Medusas shield, and a helmet adorned with a standing owl, or lying 
sphinx. 

jyiann, Dogs, l)ow and arrow;*, and above them a moon. 
. Ceres, A plough, with ears of corn, and a sickle. 

Jlncchus, Two tigers, a thyrsis twined with vine leaves, and bunches of grapes. 

Mercury, A winged cap on a Caduceus. 

Vnlcan, An anvil, with iianuner and pincers thereon. 

Vesta, An oblation bowl, out of which proceeds a flame in the middle of a circling 
serpent. 

Cyhelc, A castle or key between two lions. 

The Oniamenfs on the House of a 
Senator, consul, or magistrate, should be, the Fasces, and in the middle, thunder. 
Learned man or philosopher, A sphinx with a burning torch, and also some books. 
General, A shield, with a griffin represented thereon, also a club and lion's skin. 
Merchant, a bale of goods, a pair of scales, and a yard measure. 
Physician, The figure of JEsctt/apius, and a «taff twined with a serpent 
Painter, A moidiey with pallet and pencils. 
Shepherd, A crook, with a scrip and flute hanging to it. 
Fisliernian, Some nets, ropes, rushes, and fishes. 

The Ornament on an 
ilospital, should be charity or coujpassion, with the founder's or town's arms. 



Of Sta/uan/. 177 

Prison, All sorts of frightful instruments, as irons, chains, ropes, &c. 

House of correction, the figure of education, holding the bridle of a tamed beast 
^vhich goes before her. 

All the arts, as painting, arithmetic, architecture, &c. may be expressed by 
figures. 

It is certain, that the design of temples, built in honour of the gods, was to place 
their figures in them for worship, either with prayers or sacrifices. Wherefore it 
is a great fault in ignorants to place without, in frontispieces or niches, what we 
ought to seek within those buildings, as may be seen in the temple of Diana at 
Ephesus, Apollo at Dolp/tus, Jupiter at JDodone, and many others, where the figures 
all stand without them. 



£ND OF BOOK X. 



VOL. II. 2 A 



THE 

ART OF FAINTIWG^ 

BOOK XI. 
OF STILL LIFE. 

EMBLEM CONCERNING STILL LIFT.. 

Judgment and Prudence sit here at a table, by whom are seen some cupids, taking^ 
out of a large horn of plenty, all sorts of things, as a sceptre, crown, necklaces, books, 
a shepherd's staff", musical instruments, garlands, flowers, fruit, &c. serving for 
still life ; and presenting them to Judgment, who, by the help of Prudence, lays them 
in heaps on the table, disposing them orderly for representing ingenious designs in 
that part of the art. 

CHAP. I. - 

OF STILL LIFE IN GENERAL. 

JjLaving thus far treated of the power and dignity of the noble art of painting, 
together with the lustre and advantage accruing to those who thoroughly consider 
and put it in execution, we shall now, for the sake of weak capacities, proceed to 
still life, or immoveable and inanimate things; such as flowers, fruits, gokJ, silver, 
stone, musical instruments, dead fish, &c. and shew which are the best and of most 
advantage. These may in theii- turns serve for materials for a natural composition 
wherewith to please all sorts of men, the great as well as the little, the learned as 
ignorant. Wherefore out of many we shall fix on the following objects, as the most 
beautiful, elegant, and agreeable. 

1. Flowers. 

2. Fruit. 

.3. Gold, silver, and other rich things. 
- 4. Musical instruments. 



Of Still Lift: 17f) 

These four sorts, artfully ordored and porformed, may serve for tin- oriiamotit ot 
halls and cahiiints as well as the host paintings, provided tiiey have a proper !i;,dit, 
and hai)->' l<)u;ether. lint wo must know, in the first jjlace, what constitutes a good 
still lite pieeo, since, thoni;h it he naturally pencilled, nothing hut a good f:hoice can 
charm tiie senses, and hring fame to the master. It is weakness to think tliat faded 
Uowers shonld phase, much less in a picture : or, who woidd have a piece of ordi 
nary unripe or rotten fruit in his best rooni, and among a ca))inet collection, seeing 
the life itself is so disagreeahle? Such rubbish J did Ajrmerly admire ; but, as they 
only shew the deformities of nature, 1 have no appetite to view them any more. But, 
to return to the subject. 

My opinion is, that the beauty and goodness of a still life consists only in the 
most choice objects: I say the most choice; as among ilowers, the most rare and 
beautiful, and the same in fruits and other things. These will gai>i the master cre- 
dit, especially with the addition of some particular significations proper to them. 
It is not probable that wealthy people should be delighted w ith old-fashioned plate 
and furniture, when they can have every thing more beautiful and elegant; and, as 
improbable, that judicious lovers of music should be pleased with the modern lyre, 
dulcimer, or bag-pipe. As for cabbages, carrots, and turnips, as likewise cod-fish, 
salmon, herrings, smelts, and such like, which are poor and mean ornaments, and 
not worthy of any apartment ; he w ho is pleased with them may seek them in the 
markets. I as little approve of horse furniture and hunting equipage; though these 
latter with wild boars, stags, hares, pheasants, partridges, and other fowls, depend- 
ing on princes and noblemens fancies, are more tolerable. 

Having thus in general touched on still life, let the judicious determine which sort 
is best and nujst advantageous either to the painter or purchaser. 

As for me, I think eloquence very charming to the ear; but goodness alone 
makes beauty amiable. What is a fine flower, apple, gold cup, or well tuned 
violin, without good smell, delicate taste, proper use, and agreeable sound ? Good- 
ness I say, ought to be perfectly apparent : the smell, taste, hearing, or sound, 
camiot be painted ; but may be in some measure expi'essed by occult significatioas, 
either in bass-relief by fables, hieroglyphics, or emblematic figures, or by many 
other things, if the will be not wanting. 

As to the nature and property of the places for still life, they are two-fold, close 
and open; the one representing it as if hanging against a wall or wainscot, and the 
other as lying on a bench or table, or on the ground-. 

We also suppose, that no objects used in still life ought to be represented less than 
the life. 

Jt is likewise improper, and against the nature of still life, to introduce, in any of 

2 A 2 



180 Of Still Life. 

the hefore-mcntioned choices, coloured hack-works, or vistos:, either close or open ; 
that is, landscape, architecture, or any kind of livi..;^ creatures, which would spoil 
the very name of a still life : moreover, it is difficult, if not impossihle, for such a 
painter to hit every thing; and granting he can, I yet^uestion whelli r he would be 
pleased with the title of a still life painter. I say, then, that the <ieptli of (lie pic- 
ture is only to be represented by a hanging curtain, or a bass-relief of wood or stone, 
of such a colour and tint as best suits the general decorum; the one darkish, and 
the other somewhat lighter. With flowers a dark grey back ground suits better 
than a white, yellow, or red one. With fruit, white and grey marble, but not yel- 
low or red : yet, as a fine bass-relief rerpiires inoro skill than a Hower or fruit, and 
such like, you may, instead thereof, introduce a niche, with a god or goddess's 
bust therein, proper to the sul)ject ; as a Flora, Pomona, Bacchus, Apollo, Diana, 
or others, according to the intent of your design, and as you would have it l)ear 
either a particular or general meaning, which each of those figures will supply in 
abundance. Flowers are various, and, like fruits, may be divided into three sorts, 
to wit, the Spring, Summer, and Autumn ; and, having different qualities, are fit 
for many fine and uncommon designs, in conjunction with bass-reliefs or busts, as I 
have said, with this caution, that with flowers suit no fruit, but ears of corn, as be- 
ing airy and pliable ; but among fruits may be some flowers, especially such as 
allude to rest and mirth ; as poppies and roses. And yet these agree best with 
grapes, either in garlands or festoons. 

Let us now, for exercise and improvement in this point, observe what the learned 
say. The white lily is sacred to Juno ; turnsol to Ajwllo; the rose to Venus ; Di- 
ana and Somnus claim the poppies; Ceres, the corn-flowers ; /«?*«, the pomegranates; 
liacchus, the fig-tree and vine; Ceres, or Tsis, the peaches and ears of .corn ; Venus 
and Apollo, theapph^s; Ops, or Mother Earth, every thing she prodtices through- 
out the year. Of instruments, the lyre is dedicated to Apollo, Mercury, and the 
Pluses; the flute to Pan and Venus; the trumpet, to Mars, 8cc. 



CHAP. II. 

DKSIGNS FOR BASS-RLLIIiFS PROPEU TO STILL LIIi:. 

VV iTH flowers suit Zephyrus and Flora, or Venus and Aflonis, in courtship. 
With fruits, Ceres and Pomona, or Pomona and Vertumnus. With grapes, liac- 
fJiusand Ariadne and merry bacchanals; and, if there be mulberries among them, a 
sleeping Silenus, and the nymph Ji^/c, is mostagreeable. 



Of Still Life. 181 

With iimsical instniMirnts, Apollo and the iiiiu; Miihcs; Orphcvs playing, or Arion 
on lilt! dolphin. With a liiulin I, conitt, and cvinha!, a bacchanalian s.iciince, feast, 
or dancing. 

To the three seasons, as Spring, Suinnier, and Antiiinn, in one pieee, we may 
apply Veiivs, Ceres, and Jiucchus, silting together, according to their ranks. I 
exclude tlje Winter, as improper an<l disagreeable, and adinitting of no otlu r 
than poor interpretations ; such as Hunger, Penury, &c. which this season brings 
uith it. 

'I'hat these bass-reliefs may have due decorum, you must observe, that in garlands 
they ought to be octangular ; in festoons, round ; and in groups, or bunche><, sfjuare, 
and parallel with the frame, especially when disposed hanging above, below, and on 
the sides; but when in corners, a compartment suits better, and this to be scpiare 
above, and semi-circular at bottom and both sides. Thus much as to close bass- 
reliefs in general. As for the relief, the flatter it is the better, and without the least 
ground-shade, in order to prevent all mastery and confusion. 

Concerning the other sort of still lifie, either standing or lying in deep niches, or 
on benches or tables, we have before observed, tliat it ought not to be represented 
less than the life, and therefore must come quite forward in the piece, as appearing 
then in its full force and quality ; even much better with a light coming from without, 
than within ; a front than side light. 

There aie three sorts of grounds, which elegantly set off fruits. Grapes, espe- 
cially tiie blue, and cherries, blue plumbs, and all fruits inclinable to be dark, 
require one of free-stone; but apples, peaches, and apricots, appear better on a 
dark grey groimd. There is a third sort, as pumpkins, melons, oranges, straw- 
berries, and others, which best become a white ground, whether they be lying on a 
bench or table, or in a deep niche. 

I shall now describe some designs, which I hope will not be unacceptable to the 
artist. The fust contains ihe three blooming seasons. 

A Picture, or Composition. 
This piece exhibits a compass-headed niche, square within, and its depth equal 
to its diameter: therein I place a beautiful vase, either of chrystal, copper, or 
"•old, with riowers, of which I set the shortest stalk in the middle, and the others 
spreading on the sides: above, in the middle, on a ring, I hang two or three 
bunches of the largest sort of grapes: to the ring I fasten a small ribbon, on which 
\oosely hang ears of corn, intermixed with corn-flowers, taken up and tied in the 
upper corners of the piece, and hanging down the sides : below, round the vase, 
lies fine and palatable fruit, of the largest and best sort ; as melons, lemons, fresh 



182 Of Si III Life. 

In^f:, poiiiogranatos, walnuts, as wtll as apples, peaches, China oranges, &c. This 
is the suhstanco ol' the pieeo. 

The disposition is thus. The festoons, in bunches of a hand's lent;t!i, are parted 
with j:i;reens, and tied; whicli greens co\er the stalks of corn, and being intermixed, 
as is said, with some bine ilowers. produce an agreeable mixture, without mastery. 
The jaumbs setting them oft', are grey stone, and the ribbon, dark violet. The 
grapes of the largest sort, tied to a copper ring, are. in the middle, white, and 
those hanging on each side, blue, with a green leaf or two : this group is well set 
off against the shade of the hollow of the niche, without drawing the eye fiom the 
principal. My intention is, to dispose the flowers into a large mass of beautiful 
and light ones; the strongest and fullest to be in tlie middle, consisting of white, 
yellow, and light rod : the highest next the grapes to be a turnsol, and on the 
sides, others of less force and colour, intermixed here and there with a beautiful 
blue one. And, because the vase, on account of the room which the fruits lying 
about it, take uj), cannot stand <]uite forward, the flowers spreading on. the sides 
must be in shade. The fruits I dispose contrary again ; as the largest on the left 
side, and the smallest and most tender, such as peaches, apricots, and plumbs, on 
the right: they should be //«/»/« fruits, especially the lemons, at least the size of 
two doubled hands,'as being the chief of the group, and governing the rest. If, be- 
sides the seasons, you would represent some other meanings, add a lyre, violin, or 
other musical instrument, which may be set or hung against the light side of the 
aforesaid hollow ; and tlius the piece is complete. 

And now, curious still life painters! view this example with attention, and con- 
sider whether I propose to you any difliculty above your abilities. Ye flower 
painters. Is it more troublesome and artfid to imitate; a grape, apple, or peach, than 
arose, lily, or turnsol? And ye, who practice fruit only. What dithculty has a 
flower more than fruits, a pomegranate or melon, inwardly or outwardly ? Any of 
these may be set, standing or lying before you, as long as you please ; and so may 
a harp, violin, lyre, or flute : these can store you, and are all in your power, and your 
eyes can determine the proportions, measures, and forms, of all that stands still, 
hangs, or lies, and the soft ])encil, skilfully handled, brings them naturally and 
pro])erly on the cloth. Why then do ye so often obstinately build on a single sort? 
A beautiful flower will certainly |)lease the eye, but more, in conjunction with some 
fine music:t! instruments. Your elpth may take in some of each, and yet, ye most 
times do it with a single sort. If it be a flower-piece, your cloth nmst however be 
filled, as it also must, when the subject is fruits and musical instruments. When 
we say, A man is a fine still life painter, we are to suppose, he paints every thing, 
cither standing still, lying, or hanging. 



Of Still Lifr. 183 

Second Picture, being the reverse of thefortiur. 

T\\o cliief object in this arrani^eiiient, is a low or shallow l)a.skf;t of fruit, takiiii^ 
up ill l»rf!a<lth the major part of the opmiiig. This hasl«t is (illcd with :ill sorts of 
tenfhir ami palatable fnii;. Instead of the {grapes over it, I fasten to the rin;^ a Ixitu-li 
of llowcrs with elegant greens, tied up, as in the former, and afjainst th(r jaumlis of 
the niche, some musical iiistrnmeiifs ; as a ilute, trumpet, bassoons, cornets, haul- 
boys, &(;. On the right side of the basket lies a Porcelain dish of strawberries ; 
and behind it, somewhat deeper in the niche, a wide glass (jf ninlberries, &.O. The 
hanging festoons, on each side of the bunch of llowers, consist mostly of ears of corn 
and greens. 'I'he main light takes the basket of fruit, consisting mostly of lightish 
white, yellow, and son!e\x hat n d ones, and the shaded side, of dark, black, or violet. 
The bunch of flowers over it, contrarily, is made up of blue, purple, violet, and .'i 
little white and yellow. The musical instruments the same. The otiier things, en- 
compassing tiiese, as the ears of corn, and greens, explain themselves. 

This piece, thus disposed and artfully executed, is a proper matching picture for 
the preceding. 

We shall add a third composition relating to music (implying harmony) no less 

elegant than the former. 

Third Ordonnance. 

In the middle of the hollow of the niche, I place on a desk a large book of 
music, opening long-ways; on one side whereof is pricked the cantns, and on the 
other, the bass, either in church or cliamber music. Over it, on the ring, I fasten 
an ivory lyre> adorned with gold, and between its horns hangs a crown of laurel, 
with a small olive, or myrtle branch. All the wuid-instruments, before-mentioned, 
together with the violin, must be disposed on the sides, and behind the book, and 
forwards, some implements pertaining thereto, viz. a screw or two, piece of colo- 
phony, box of strings, bassoon or hautboy reed, &c. all encompassed by a beautiful 
festoon of Howers, intermixed with ears of corn. 

This piece suits well between th(> two others. 

As for the shape of all the tliree, they will be better, and look more noble, if 
longer than wide. 

There remains another sort of still life, -which, with the preceding, would yield a 
great variety. It consists of all sorts of rich thing.s, as gold, silver, crystal, and 
other glasses, pearls, precious stones, and mother-o'-pearl. Such pieces are com- 
monly called Vamtases. The lamous Kalf has left many rare examples of these 
things, which deserve the highest commendation. 

j\ow, to shew that in this branch the artist has plentiful materials for briniring him 



181. Of Still L/fc. 

iVoiu ;i trade to an art ; or, in hotter terms, for Liiricliing the productions of the hand 
witli those of the Iiead, wlierehy he raay be reputed an artful master, I shall sketch a 
fourth conipo^ilion, takini;- for the su!)ject, wisdom, riches, and honour. Solomon 
onl) prayiil for wisdom, and with it obtained riches and honour. 

Fourth Picture. 

1 place ill tlie niiddlc of the piece every thinp; that is costly, viz. gold, silver, pots, 
taiikurds, salvers, cups of mother-o"-pearl, crystal, candlesticks, heaps of gold and 
sihercoiii, full purses, &c. On the ring above, 1 hang a small board, with this 
motto in gold letters, Sapient ia Nntrix; or, instead of the writing, I put in a golden 
.sun, on a sky-colour ground. On each side of it, I hang some books, festoon-wise, 
intermixed with laurels, naval and moral crowns, garlands of palm, laurel, myrtle, 
oak, Sec. and fastened to the upper corners of the piece, proceeding from the ring, and 
hanging down the sides. About them might l)e twined a small streamer, with these 
w ords : L,ahoris luerces, sapiaitia nutrix ; or J*rcemia majora laborious. 

Now, to bring Wisdom, which is the principal part of the piece, into the middle, 
we may, in lieu of the sun and books, hang above, on the ring, the golden fleece, and 
exliibit below a sphinx, with some books and peaches. 

There are other sorts of still life, as dead fish, cabbages, carrots, turnips, &c, 
which being too low and poor, and bearing no particular significations, I think 
unworthy to range with those before-mentioned, how well soever they be exe- 
cuted, much less to adorn the caliinets of great and wise men. But dead hares, 
partridges, pheasants, and all sorts of hunting equipage, may, as I have said, be 
praise-worthy. 



CHAP. III. 

REPItKSKNTATIO.VS OF STILL LIFE, APPLICABLE TO PARTICULAR 

PERSONS. 

Although I have before said, that the famous Kalf excelled in still life, yet he 
could give as little reason for what he did, as others before and since : he only ex- 
hibited what occurred to his thoughts; as a Porcelain pot or dish, gold cup, mum- 
glass, runmier of wine, with lemon-peel hanging on it, clock, horn of mother-o'- 
pearl, gold or silver footed, silver dish of peaches, or else cut China oranges or 
lemons, a carpet, and other usual things, without any thought of doing something 
of importance, which might carry some particular meaning, or be applicable to 



Of Stilt Life. 185 

Kouietliiiig. Neveilhelcss, to shew that this may be done as well in still hfc, as in 
olh(jr re])icseiitalions, 1 shall give the following sketches made applicable to par- 
ticular persons. 

Picture, or Composition ^ adapted to a Iriump/uml JVarrior. 
Heroin we exhibit some arms, viz, a steel breast-piece, a helmet, fifg?iiitly 
wrought, sliield and sword, with the hilt representing an eagle or lion's head, a pike 
or spear, bent bow, and a quiver of arrows, also some crowns of laurel, palm, ami 
olive. Above, on the frame, may be fastened on two rings, a gold chain, to which 
hangs a heart, beset with precious stones, coming down to the brea.st-piece, and 
over it may be the motto of the hero to whom we apply the subject. We exhibit 
further, a gold crown, bracelets and rings, a hat with feathers, and a diamond but- 
ton and a trumpet. Under these lies an embroidered coat on the table, with a sleeve 
hanging down from it. On the wall, or in a small table, may be seen in bass-relief 
Apollo, having killed the dragon Python, or Perseus and Andromeda ; or a man in a 
lion s skin, tearing open a tiger's mouth, and near him a club. 

Comment on the aforesaid Objects. 

The breast-piece was anciently taken for a mark of understanding and defence; 
for, as it guards the breast, it preserves life. 

The helmet denotes an inclination for war, and a martial spirit. 

The shield also, a token of defence, was so much regarded by the ancients, that 
they made a present of it to conquerors, in consideration of their valour and con- 
duct. Virgif, in his ninth book, mentions JEncas's ordering a shield to be brought 
to him, wherewith to reward the fidelity and valour of Nisus. The Argivcs had a 
custx)m of marching young men (who had by notable exploits merited the honour) 
with the shield of Enhippiis carried before them triumphantly, through their town 
and territories. AVe also read, that the palladium, which the ancients believed fell 
from heaven, was a shield, mysteriously representing the protection of the Roman 
people and empire ; and, according to Numa Pampilius's explanation, the shield 
implied success and prosperity, whereby he endeavoured to buoy and comfort the 
Roman people, on their being sorely visited, in his eighth year, with a pestilence 
which threatened the destruction of all Italy. The shields were moreover dedicated 
to those, who had saved the town and commonwealth from any great and imminent 
danger; and, to perpetuate such a benefaction, and as a spur to virtue, they caused 
the story to be engraved or carved on their shields. The shield and pike also sic- 
nify war, chielly in retrieving the damages sustained by the enemy, and in putting 
them to flight, and destroying them. Yet weapons arc if little advantage, if not 

VOL. II. 2 u 



186 Of Sim Life. 

used witli wisdom and understandins:; wherefore, we generMy see Pallas represent- 
ed with a shield and pike; the latter signifying force and «|uickness of apprehen- 
sion. 

Tlie pike or spear, also denotes tlie spreading of a glorious name; for which 
reason, according to Plntarcli, Lysippus adorned the statue of Alexander \iith it, 
though others represented him with thunder in his hand, intending thereliy to im- 
mortalize the acliievements of that Iiero. The pike or arrow also heing thrown or 
shot at a mark, hieroglyphically signilies the spreading of a glorious name; yet, ac- 
cording to the ancients, the pike or spear not only implied royal grandeur and autho- 
rity, but was likewise the usual reward for those who had shewed their bra\ ery in 
conquering the enemy : as Plhii/ says, that Sicinnius Dentahis, for his admirable 
valour, was presented with twelve pikes. Fcsius PompchisihmkH, that generals re- 
ceived the pike or javelin, in token of their being intrusted with the principal ma- 
nagement of the war and empire ; and, that therefore it was customary to sell the 
prisoners publicly, sub hasid, or under the pike or sj)ear. 

The sword, in reference to war, signilies fury, cruelty, fright, persecution, and 
threatening with death. 

The bent bow is likewise a sign of war; and the arrows signify the people, or the 
enlargement of power ; also velocity and quick motions. 

The crown of laurel was the token of conquerors, and those who performed any 
glorious act, as the ancient remains sufficiently inform us. And we learn from his- 
tory, that the i?oma« generals and commanders used in their triumphs, to pi'esent a 
crown of laurel to Jupiter i^apitolinns. 

The ancient Romans ?i\s,o used to bestow a palm on those who triumjdied, as a ge- 
neral token of victory. And the palm-tree, though pressed by a heavy weight, will 
yet grow against it : wherefore in hot battles, it is esteemed a token of victory, 
which can only be got by a firm resolution to resist and despise dangers and adver- 
sities. 

The olive is likewise a mark of victory ; the ancients adorning their trophies and 
warlike monuments with its branches, or decking the head of the conqueror with a 
crown of its leaves. 

The gold chain was the Roman reward for valour and virtue; it not only recom- 
pensing merit, but serving for a badge of honour, glory, and esteem. The Roman 
history informs us, that the son of Tarquinius Prisons, though but fourteen years of 
age, charged the enemies in the open field and conquered them ; wherefore to im- 
mortalize his valour, he was the first who was honoured with a gold chain; though, 
according to others, Hersilius the first born of the ravished ISubines at Rome, first 
received that honour. We also read that Ricirmius Dcntatus was sixty-three times 



Of Still Life. 1S7 

rowanlod willi a gold chain, and twenty-five times with other gold or gilt pre- 

hfllts. 

TIk! heart beset with precious stones, hanging down to tin; breast on a gold chain, 
signifies, that wiiolesonie advice and deliberation spring from the iuneruioijt of the 
heart; wherefore those who triumphed were introduced with this gold chain about 
their necks, in tlie utmost part whereof, or tin; heart hanging down to the breast, tht^y 
imagined were contained herbs and i>aln), which secured the triuni})hers from maiic»» 
and envy. Asconius particularly remarks, that the children of the oobles or free 
citizens wore those chains ; but the JJOcrti or freed-men, for distinction's sake, had 
them only of silver and copper: to which Juvenal in his Satires alludes, saying. 
The poor nnist be content with copper. 

The gold crown and bracelets, which adorned both the shoulders and arms, were 
likewise the rewards of great actions. These gifts were preserved for posterity, as 
a spur for young people indefatigably to tread in the steps of their forefathers. 
l^tns Livius, in his tenth Book says. That after the victory obtained over the Sumnitti 
near Aqvilonia, Papirius on that occasion presented Sp. JS'aulius, his nephew, S'puri- 
7(s Papiiius, four captains and a troop of pikernen, with bracelets and gold crowns ; 
giving the other captains, foot-soldiers and horsemen, bracelets and ornaments of 
silver, which they called Cortiicuht, or little horns. And Decius the Tribune re- 
ceived a gold crown from Aulas Cornelius Cossus, for defending a certain strong 
place belonging to the Romayis, against the Samnites, and forcing them to raise the 
siege. 

The Romans also esteemed the rings as badges of honour and nobility : for, ac- 
cording to Titvs Livius, in his third Book, treating of the second Punic war, on 
Mago's being dispatched by Hannibal to notify to the Carthagenians the bloody de- 
feat of the Romans in the battle of Cannae, he peured out before them a heap of 
gold rings, taken as a booty from the slain ; adding, to extol the victory, that among 
the Romans none but the great and noble were allowed to wear them. And towards 
the close of his ninth Book, he relates, that on Flavius's being, in a public assembly, 
chosen Mdilis, or superintendant of the public buildings, the nobility were so dis- 
tinguished, that several of them laid down their gold rings and other tokens of ho- 
nour and esteem. And the eloquent Cicero, in his fourth Oration against Verres, 
reproaches him for bestowing in a public assembly of the people, the tokens of 
honour, gold rings, on mean and unworthy people : with whom agrees Asconius, 
saying, That the fasces, civic crown and gold rings were by the people looked on a.s 
badges of liberty and nobility, and always attended with honour and profitable in- 
comes. 

The CrrccA'A- reputed the hat or cap as a token of noble extraction ; wherefore they 

2 B 2 



188 Of Still Life. 

represented the head' of ZRysses covered with a hat or cap, as being noble both by 
father and mother. For this reason, we commonly see on ancient coins and medals 
u hat or cap circumscribed LIBERTAS. 

The diamond is indisputably the hardest, and for its sparkling the most bea.it I'lil 
and perfect of all precious stones, and (which is most surprising and remarkable) it 
resists the consuming fire, without losing any of its virtue or excellence. Wherefore 
it is used as an hieroglyphic of immovable firmness in prosperity and adversity : ac- 
cordingly, the ancients also attributed to it a supernatural quality of freeing the 
heart from vain fear and despair, and that it never left a man either in his pressures or 
dangers, when principally he ought to be master of himself. 

The plume of feathers also signilies honour and nobility, and, 

The trumpet, esteem, and an immortal name. 

The embroidered coat, called Tunica Palmata, vpas an under garment commonly 
worn by those who triumphed; according to Titus Livius in his tenth Book: and 
Jsiflorus Hispulemis, in his Originiuni, lib. 19, says. That those who had conquered 
used to receive a gown called Toga Palmata or Toga Picta, from the victories and 
palm branches worked in it. And Macrobitts, lib. 11, Saturnal, cap. G, affirms, that 
TiiUus Hostilius first introduced this garment among the Romcms. 

The two first bass-reliefs explain themselves, and by the third we mean s r ngih ; 
for the lion's skin implies high understanding and resolution of mind, and the club, 
conduct and intrepidity. 

Second Picture relating to a Judge. 
In this we represent a pair of scales, a sword, looking glass, sceptre topped with 
an eye, a board with a triangle thereon inclosing the number I. and the image of 
truth, an hazel wand and fasces, a scythe, rod, axe, gold chain, staff twined with 
ivy, a large folio book, whereto is affixed the coat of arms of the commonwealth; 
and on the wall a fruitful palm-tree in bass-relief. 

Explanation of these Objects. 

The scales commonly placed in the hand of Justice signify, that weighing aH 
men's actions, she assigns to every one what God has decreed liim; wherefore the 
heathens also represented Astrcea ascended to heaven, and seated there between the 
lion and scales; intimating thereby, that a judge ought resoluttly to punish trans- 
gressions according to their merit, without respecting persons. 

The sword likewise signifies justice and the severity of the law ; according to the 
apostle, "A ruler is the minister of God, and bears not the sword in v^in, to exe- 
cute wrath on him that doth evil." 



Of sun Lift. 189 

Till' lookiag ti;l;iss in tlie hand of pnidenre dcnotca refoiiniiip of manners. 

The ancient Eg>fplians,\)y th<; hi< loi^lvpliic figure of the Kccplit- with an open 
eye, signified the absolute authority of equity and prudence; vNhich. alway- watch- 
in" and penetrating men's actions, justly reward each according to his deserts. 

PliUarcii, in his doctrine of the Pylhagorenns, intimates, that the triangle is the 
most perfect figure of justice. Some place the number I. within if, because we 
therein sec the godly character of the Almigiity. 

The image of truth explains itself. 

The hazel wand signifies ecclesiastical, and the fasces, secular dignity; or reli- 
gion and j)olicy. 

The scythe is the hieroglyphic of chastisement; as we read in the prophet Zecha- 
riah, that the scythe he saw in a vision, was going forth to cut off all those who stole 
or swore. 

The rod also implies punishment, for the support of good discipline and laws ac- 
cording to equity and justice. 

The Romans and some of the Grcr.ks took the axe hieroglyph ically for heavy chas- 
tisement ; we see in the me'lals and coins of Tenedos, mentioned by Polhi.v : for the 
king of Tenedos having published a law, that any person caught in adultery should 
be put to death with the axe, and in compliance therewitli not spared his own son, he 
commanded this story to be struck on the coins and medals, in order to be thereby 
immortalized. 

The EgyptiansWkewhe applied the Bulla, or gold chain and heart to their judges ; 
intimatiitg, that making pure truth their only aim, they ought to be impartial, and 
give judgment without respect of persons. 

The staff twined with ivy signifies, that justice ought to be protected : for by 
the staff is understood authority, and by the ivy protection, which should always 
flourish. 

The large folio book contains the statutes and ordinances of the country. 

The fruit of the palm-tree represented in bass-relief, being of equal size with the 
leaves, the ancients would thereby signify justice and equity. This tree also con. 
sisting of lasting matter, and not altering or decaying so soon as others, serves for a 
pattern of the maintenance of justice without impediment or alteration: and as it 
never drops its leaves as others do, and resists all pressure and weight, thereby is 
implied that judges ought not to be biassed, but withstand those who endeavour to 
draw them from their duty by fair words, gifts, or intrigues. 

Picture relating to a Lawyer. 
In this table we exhibit a plaister figure of Mercury w inged at head and kei, stand- 



190 Of Still Life. 

ing on a square stone pedestal, having in one hand Ids golden caduceus I wined willi 
serpents, and in the other an olive bnineli. By hiui is a plaister sphinx. Also 
a sword and shield, a lyre or harp, a i)urning lamp, an iidc-horn with pens and a roll 
of paper, a seive, some of the principal law books, and a Bible. In a small vase or 
pot may be set an iris or two. Above on a ring hang three garlands, one composed 
of laurel and ivy, another of cedar and myrtle, and the third of oak leaves. On 
the wall, or in a small tal)lc, mc see in bass-relief the fable of Minerva brought 
forth out of Jupiter's brain. 

Explanation of the Objects. . 

3Iercunj implies the impression of words upon the mind, and the force of elo- 
quence : wherefore the ancients belie\cd he was the messenger and the interpreter 
of the gods. 

The square stone whereon he stands signifies the regard for and stability of the 
laws and rules whereby to direct our sj)eeches : for which reason Mercury is styled 
Tetragonus or square, that is, firm and certain. 

His staff or caduceus intimates, that obstinate tyrants must yield to the laws and 
fluent charms of eloquence. By the serpents twined about the golden rod, the an- 
cients mean that eloquence, tempered with ingenuity and prudence, can easily bring 
men to reason. Some also would have the golden rod in the hand of Mercury, to 
signify, the excellence and eminence of honourable offices due to those who employ 
their eloquence (the gift of heaven) in their neighbours' welfare and the common 
good. 

By the olive branch in Mercury s hand is understood peace; for the ancients be- 
lieved it composed the diflerences of contending parties. 

His wings at head and feet were assigned him to signify the readiness and force 
of eloquence. 

The sphinx shews, that nothing is so abstruse or occult that a lawyer's penetrating 
j udgment cannot clear. 

We compare jurisprudence to the sword and shield : for as a warrior thereby de- 
fends himself and annoys his enemy, so a council gets his cause by dint of strong 
arguments and well-grounded conclusions. 

The ancient Romans signified by the lyre or harp, a man of great learning and 
judgment ; for that instrument is composed of divers strings and sound.s, producing 
fine harmony ; like the lawyer when he reconciles the diflerence of things to reason, 
in order fo make conlrsting parties agree. By the harp or lyre we also understand, 
that harmony arises from different and dissonant cords, and that people of contrary 
sentiments meeting together, may, by a good union, settle and transmit to posterity 



Of Still rife. 191 

jm rxocUent form of s^ovcrnnicnt. Ar)H as Phtin, in his Timwus, h\y\tH Uie poiiI a 
concert or R\V(ct liaruioriy, so concord may Im- jnslly called the KonI of th»' state. 
The Greeks and Romans say, the lyre was partly invented by Mercury, and partly 
by odicrs. 

The sliapt- of the ancient lyre is this :— it was bent like fwo horns joined together, 
havirit;a swellinp^ belly and on top a handle. It is said to have had but three strings, 
and these conld produce seven tunes, making a pf-rfect harmony. The three strings 
uere assigned in imitation of the tiiree .seasons of the year known to the Egyphuns, 
viz. Sduimer, winter, and spring, each consisting of four niontli'^; ami they attri- 
buted the cantus to the summer, the bass to the winter, and the treble to th' spring. 
Others say that this application respects man; whose body, consisting of four ele- 
ments, and the soul, in reference to its acts of three, thus n)akes the number seven; 
vvhitli together produce a perfect harniony. 

Darkue.ss Hies the light of true knowledge and understanding. Wherefore the lamp 
is sometimes taken for the works done by its light ; for as the night through its 
stillness is very proper for study, so the Greek poets also gave the night a name 
which signilled the producing understanding, wisdom, aufl gladness ; as the mind 
is then a|)l for meditation. Accordingly the old proverb of the students is, Plus olei 
qicam viiii; lie spent more in oil than wine ; meaning more time in diligent labour of 
tlic miiul to attain sciences, than in taking walks, feasting, or other diversions. Epi- 
charnnis used to say, That he who would study great things, must not, for the sake 
of ease, spare the nights. 

The Eiiyplia/is uiulerstood by the ink-horn, pens, and roll of paper, all things 
whereby arts and sciences might be represented. 

By thf sieve, the same people hieroglyphieally meant, the frnitfulness of instruc- 
tion in arts and sciences; also the writers of sacred and mysterious things: for as 
tlie sieve separates the good from tlie bad, so their lawyers, who were also styled 
priests, knew how, through their prudence and wisdom, to distinguish between 
things concerning life and death ; accordingly, they made use of the word seive for 
expressing w hat is true and known. Others say, that by that implement is signified 
a man of great knowledge and perfection, who can discourse of things divine and 
human with equal penetration. Moreover, as the sieve separates the riour from tlie 
bran, so experience (its us for discerning between good or bad, right or wrono-. 
Wherefore Virgil, in the first Book of his Georgics, rightly styles it Mystica I'annus 
lacchi, the mystic fan or sieve of lacchus. Some apply to this point the saying of 
the philosopher, Antistlienes; that it were great folly not to know how to distiii"-uish 
the corn from the chaff; meaning the learned and beneficial citizens from illiterate. 

Next to the Bible, the chief authors for law are, viz. among the Greeks, Solon, Ly- 



19'.^ Of Still Life. 

curgus, Di'moii/ioies, and Isocrales : amous; the Roma7is, Cato, Cicero, flortenslus, and 
Cicsar; their Leges and Oratioues, iilso the Corpus Byzantinum and Corpus Juris 
or Justinianeum, compiled by Thcophilus and Doret/ieus, senators under the eir.- 
)>eror Jiisti7iian, from a series of ancient law books : anion;^ tiie Spaniards, Didaci's 
Cavcrruvius, Francisco dc Salgado, secretary to Philip 11, and Ferdiiumdes Vas- 
qnius: among tlie French, Jacobus Cujacius, and Marcus Auionius Miu-cIhs: among 
the Germmis, Friic/iius and Carpzoviiis : and, among the Dutch, Ilvgo Groiivs, 
Groeneicegau, &c. 

The herb or ilowcr Iris is an endilem of eloquence according to Homer, Mho, tc- 
describe that of the Trojan ambassadors, represents them as having eaten the bloom- 
ing Iris; meaning their being thoroughly skilled in pleasing eloquence; for that 
flower, by its variety of colours, is not unlike the heavenly Iris or rainbow, whom 
the ancients accounted the goddess of eloquence. 

The garland or laurel intermixed with ivy leaves signifies that lawyers are, for 
their excellent labours and parts to be had in perpetual remembiance : for, by the 
laurel, the ancients understood a natural force and fruitfulness of understanding, and 
by the ivy, vvhicii though at first creeping along the ground, at last tops the highest 
trees and buildings, the skill or experience which lawyers obtain by continual la- 
bour and practice. 

It will not be disagreeable to that body of men, that for immortalizing their names 
and memories, we add the garland of cedar and myrtle to the laurel and ivy ; since, 
concerning great and eloquent men, we may very well conclude with Persitis and 
Horace, Cedro digna lociiti, They have spoken things worthy to be cut in cedar, or to 
be everlasting; for the cedar is, among the trees, the emblem of eternity, as never 
rotting or mouldering through age ; wherefore the Ark of the Covenant was also 
made of it. The myrtle signifies a mind enriched with many endowments. 

Among the crowns, with which the Romans used to adorn the heads of legislators 
and pleaders, that of oak-leaves was in great esteem, as implying the conservation of 
the town and citizens. Several reasons arc assigned for this sort of crowns. Som 
say, that originally the Arcadians were first honoured with it for the antiquity of 
their oracles. Others think it proceeded from that tree being sacred to Jvpitcr, the 
patron of the Dodonaan oracle, and protector of towns ; and that therefore it was 
very reasonable to crown those who had saved a citizen, either by arms or law, with 
the leaves of that tree, dedicated to the tutelar god of all towns. Others are of 
oj>inion, that the oak was the first made of all trees, and has been the first nourisher 
of mankind, and material for the oracles. We see to this day a certain medal with 
this Doric inscription, EnEiPQTAN, representing an eagle treading on thunder, and 



0/ stui Life. ins 

two oak braiu.lifs bent f;arlaiul-\vay.s ; which was doubtless the coin of Epirna, al- 
liidinii- to tli(; oak ol' C/iuonia and the Dudoiiauii, oracle. 

15y Mimrvu pniceodinii (Voin Ji(pilcr<. brain wo. represent tlie nature :ind activity 
of understanding and wisdom for gaining- jurisprudence ; she likewise implies ma- 
ture and wary deliberation. Wherefore some iiold, tliat Jvpitcr knew Melii, pr 
Counsel and Prudence, and tlien brought forth Miiicrva; for wisdom and under- 
standing are only attainable by mature dtlilieration and achice. 

Picture or Coviposilion rdating to a Diviyic. 

We exhibit herein a Bible or Scripture, a small altar, a burning lamp, breast-plal« , 
sword, two arrows, a drum or tindjrel, table bell, harp, cistern, and censer, sieve, 
measure of corn, basket of bread, and a lump of leaven, a salt-cellar with salt, a white 
linen girdle, bundle of flax, waggon-wheel, sapphire ring, olive branch, sheet of 
paper, whereon arc three conjoined circles inclosed within a fourth, ami under them 
an equilateral triangle and a square. In a small picture is seen a landscape exhibit- 
ing among other things a rock, a palm, a cedar-tree, and a hill sending forth abun- 
dance of water. On the wall, in a bass-relief, is an elephant rearing his trunk to- 
wards heaven, as also a stork and cock : but above all we must not forget the fruit- 
ful mustard-seed, a sprig whereof we have set in a pot or vase on the table with the 
other objects ; an explanation whereof follows. 

Adamantius and others tells us, that the powers of the universe must yield to the 
dictates of religion. A further explanation of the Bible is unnecessary, since it is 
sufUciently known to every body. 

The altar is accounted the hieroglyphic of piety, of which I have treated in 
Book IX. 

Plutarch compares the lamp to the body, the habitation of the soul ; and its shin- 
ing light to the faculty of understanding. But in scripture we often find, that by 
the lamp are meant the doctors and teachers of arts, sciences, and mysteries, who 
should be set on the candlestick, in order to expel darkness, and light those in the 
house. In another passage it is said, That the light ought not to be hidden, kc. 
And if the light, according to Scholasticus in his Clin)ax, come to be in darkness, 
what will not the darkness of nature, or men ignorant of God, be guilty of? Some 
again understand by the light the gospel ; others, St. John the Baptist, who is also 
called a burning lamp. The prophets were also lamps, but burning dim, as speak- 
ing mysteriously : but St. John, as with a fmger, has pointed out our Saviour. Euche- 
rius observes, that by the lamp is sometimes meant good works; and therefore the 
gospel says, " Let your light so shine before men, that they may see your good 
Avorks," &c. The light or fire sometimes, likewise, hieroglyphically signifies devo- 

VOL, II. 2 c 



194 Of Still Lijv. 

tiou and pioty. If cartbly thingj; can iit any uays iniito us with the heavenly, no- 
thing in nature has greater affinity with the mind and spirit than fire, because it 
lights and clears every thing, and makes us intimate with heaven. 

The pliilosopher Antisthenes, speaking of the hreast-jjhite, connnouly said, " That 
virtue was a constant defence, because it could never be lost ; for the arms of wis- 
dom and understanding are lasting to those who are riglitly arrayed with them." 
In whicli sense St. jP^mZ exhorts his congregation, " To put on the armour of faith, 
for quenching the fiery darts of the wicked," agreeable to Horace, 

^ " ■ Qui pccitd jyyteceptis format amicis." 

The apostle St. Paid says, " That the word of God is quick and powerful, and 
.sharper than any two-edged sword, piercing even to the dividing asunder of soul 
and spirit, and of the joints and marrow." Intimating, that though the stone in the 
kidneys seem incurable, yet the word of God can convert and cure the hard stone 
of our unbelief. For by our Saviour's coming on earth, we have learnt what the 
flesh and spirit incline to; and his doctrine ha.s, like a two-edged sword, divided the 
spirit from the flesh, that we might afterwards lead a spiritual life, as being not in 
the flesh bnt in the spirit, esteeming the corruption of the flesh a great gain, when 
through the spirit we obtain eternal life. 

Euchenus thinks that the words in Psalm cxxvii. " As arrows are in the hand of 
a mighty man, so are the children of the youth," allude to the apostles and their mis- 
sion into all countries; because in their travels they pierced men's hearts with the 
doctrine of Christ, as with a darting arrow, and brought them from darkness to 
light; for by the arrows, in several places of scripture, is understood God's word 
penetrating the soul as with a two-edged sword. 

We find in sacred writ that the Almighty is to be praised with drums or timbrels. 
And Gregory, in the Sixth Book of his Epistles to yl//ia?<«5tw5, emblematically shews 
by the drum kind remembrance ; for, says he, " As the materials of that instrument 
are long before prepared to fit it for sound, so a man should piously endeavour to 
thank his Creator, and loudly praise him for his benefits.'* 

The bells hanging, according to Moses s command, at the hem of the high-priest's 
garment, emblematically signified the publishing of God's will ; and his being heard 
by their tingling, on entering into or coming forth of the Holy of Holies, intimates, 
that the ministry should always have the word and laws of God in their mouths, for 
rebuking, exhorting, or comforting, according to the weakness and transgressions of 
men. 

The harp formerly represented all kinds of arts and virtues; and Eusebius tUiuks 



Of sun Life. 195 

it takes its iiaiiio from a flreek word, si^mifyinp as iimrli as lo iiislnut in excellnil 
sciences. And thus tlie souf^s of Orpheus and Proclus anionj; tlii! heathens, and 
David among the Jews, have poworfnlly incited to ijood living. 

By water and fire, or the cistern and censer, the Egyptian priests nnderstctod a 
purt^alion from si)ols and (illli ; even from the darlcness of ignorance by means of 
pure doctrine. Accordingly, afttr funerals, the anci<;nts pnriHed themselves with 
water and smoking perfumes, the latter hieroglyphically representing prayers and 
divine doctrine, as Uesychius, bisliop oi Jerusalem, writes. 

The same people meant by the sieve the fruitHdncss of instruction in arts and sci- 
ences. Others the end of all things ; as, by often examining ourselves to learn quiet- 
ness of life, and by due reflection on what is past, present, and to come, to make proi*- 
perity and adversity equal. 

Doctrine and instruction those people called sbo, which being interpreted signi- 
fies ])lenty, or all that is necessary for life; as if the study of sciences required a 
good fortune. Aristotle says, " The rich should study philosophy." And Zec/iaria/i, 
a noted man among the Jews, " If you have flour, you will learn the law : if you 
have knowledge in the law you will want no flour." The law implying knowledge 
and sciences, and the flour every thing necessary for sustenance. But I think, ac- 
cording to Egyptian wisdom, that this doctrine rather respects the soul than the 
body ; for it is believed that the basket of unleavened bread, which Aaron and his sons 
only were to ofler, hieroglyphically signified the tongue or word, or eternal and hea- 
venly eloquence; for as bread supports the body, so the word of God nourishes to 
eternal life. And because bread, by a general consent, implies doctrine and instruc- 
tion, to whom must we return our thanks, but to him who by his doctrine has en- 
lightened our understanding, and is the fountain of plenty and perfection. In this 
sense the bread called the loaves of two-tenths of fine flour offered, as in Liviticus 
xxiii. for a meat offering, signified the law and the gospel ; but, according to our Sa- 
viour, when under tempation, that, " A man did not live by bread alone, but by every 
word that proceedeth out of the mouth of God." 

In baking, the leaven has in scripture divers significations : among others, it implies 
human sciences. Now sciences are divided into human and divine, the former sub- 
ject to the diversity of words, but the latter constant and everlasting; for what i» 
once truly perfect always remains so ; and the fire which once w arms will always 
warm, as long as it is fire. Eternal providence and government of all created beings 
areendless; and thus nature, philosophy, ethics, and theology, are very conformable 
to the Deity, but grammar, rhetoric, and dialectica are called human sciences : 
wherefore, says Origines, " The leaven is not used in oflTerings." For divines under- 
stand by it human sciences, the matter and force whereof lies only in words, which 

2 c 2 



106 Of Still Life. 

uevertht'loss are aitls; because the jiurity of spoocli, >vliicli graiuiuar leuclies, sliewB 
the l)e;iuty and excellence of eloquence obtained by rhetoric, and the method of 
reasoninji' and opposition, gained by dialcclica, is a help to many other sciences. 

PhilosopJiers say, that the products of the earth are owing to salt. Divines com- 
pare it to the gospel, alledging Leviticus, chap. 2. " With all thine oflcrings thou 
shalt offer salt:"' or, in all your doctrines you must be governed by those of the 
apostles, who, according to our Saviour, are the salt of the earth. The frankincense 
put on the twelve cakes, according to the Jewish rite, the seventy interpreters have 
rendered salt, to signify the apostolical doctrine ; for, as salt makes meat palatable, 
so, according to Hesychius, instruction and exhortation cause in us a smell and taste 
of divine wisdom ; whereby our good works, as faith, hope, and charity, produce 
fruit acceptable to God. 

The Jeivish priests were commanded to set the people a pattern of chastity, piety, 
and good behaviour, and to be always ready to walk in (iods paths, as appears by 
the white linen girdle, signifying the most sacred and mysterious doctrine, by which 
they ought to govern themselves and their congregations. Jeremialis girdle had the 
same meaning, as Cyril largely shews. As the girdle was white linen, we are led to 
consider the iirst matter it was made of, to wit, flax. 

The seed of flax comes up as green as grass in a short time after sowing; and 
having blossomed and set its seetl, it is then pulled, and rotted in water, and after- 
wards laid to dry in the sun ; and then being beaten to a softness, it is combed and 
batchellcd, and spun into thread: after boiling in strong lye, it is made into a web 
of linen, and whitened for a dress to appear in before God. The care necessary 
about this herb, which is an emblem of undcfiled life, ought continually to be had in 
view, that laying aside things vain and unprolitable, we may, by means of science, 
a*ender ourselves irreprovable, and through adversity and temptations obtain the 
white garment of glory. The quick and easy growth of flax, shews how easily vir- 
tues and sciences are attainable, if we set readily about them. Hesychius under- 
stands by the flax the frail efforts of mortals, and the thread of the Almighty's will 
always remaining with us : wherefore it is the duty of the ministry, by their constant 
labours, to give out the flax whereof to prepare a garment of good works. 

Many among the learned emblematically signify by the waggon-wheel, divinity; 
because, the wheel never touching the ground but in one point, so the soul ought to 
be elevated towards God. Thus divines are rightly compared to a wheel ; that by 
forsaking earthly thoughts, their conversation should always be in heaven. 

The sapphire was always in great esteem, as emblematically representing sove- 
reignty and priesthood. Some say, that this stone draws heavenly influences from 
Jupiter and tSalum, and that those who wear it obtain all their desires ; as from 



Of Still Life. lyr 

Jiipilcr, (loiiiiiiion and autlioiity, aiul (Voiii Satuni, tlie prustliood : hut, ac< ordirij; 
to llic f';i(lu'is, (liisstoiif r('[)nsciits tin- lliidiic spokfn of \>y Ezckicl, \u wit, the scat 
of (iod, clenial, i;-ood, and Alnii.yjlily : and J'Jiic/ierius understands by the make of 
the heavi IIS, lh(! society of the pious and elect: wliercfore, says llesychiiis, Tlie 
throne of sapphire signifies the tenth or enipireal heaven: for, by tlic colour lie un- 
derstands ))inily, elearncss, and heavenly lij^ht, always instructing the church in un- 
alterable and pure doctrines. 

We learn from scripture, that the olive-tree was originally the emblem of peace; 
for, no sooner did the waters abate, \n\\ the dove, which JSouh sen(, soon after return- 
ed with an olive-leaf, as a token that the wrath oi Heaven being ap|)eased, Ciod took 
compassion on the remains of human race, and other creatures in the ark ; an<l 
therefore caused the waters to retire into the bowels of the earth. The olive-brancli 
is also in scripture the emblem of a |)ious man ; as we see in the Gospel, that the 
" Light ought to burn ])ure on the ( anfllestick, " whereby our Saviour intimates, that 
both preachers and hearers should liii their lamps with the oil of Christian virtues. 
The same tree, for its continual verdure, is also taken for the emblem of hope ; ac- 
cordingly, liasilim wished we might be like it, because, abovmding w ith blossoms and 
shining greenness, it always a/lords hope of what is to come ; or the durable fruits of 
piety and mercy. 

The wisest ^Egyptians and Greeks did, when men's understandings were simple 
and void of sophistry, very properly call the chain of certain sciences, EncyclopeEcUa ; 
as being by three circles so linked together, that the centre of the one is the be- 
ginning of the other, and those inscribed within a larger, called theology: for the 
inner circles signify human sciences, which, getting root by means of custom, rea- 
son and nature are perversely taken for infallible; but the circle inscribing them 
denotes divine sciences. We understand the same things emblematically of the 
dress and ornaments of the high-priest among the Jews; for his girdle implied ir- 
reproveable manners ; his priestly garb, truth, sound doctrine, and discourses, 
which, with their explanations, let men into the knowledge of things, or philoso- 
phy ; and his glittering robe signified pure divinity, having no other tendency but a 
correction of manners, and leading to virtue and heaven. Scripture teaches, that 
" The spirit of wisdom enters not into the heart of the wicked ;" accordingly, JMoses 
denied the unclean and sinful entrance into the tabernacle ; thereby intimating, that 
those who improve in virtue and the knowledge of God, ought, by the use of the 
five loaves (according to Cyril) or the live tart books of the law, to prepare their 
hearts for the two fishes, or the doctrine of the Evangelists and Apostles, and there- 
in to preserve. Next to the science for the improvement of manners, divines should 
endeavour at distinctness, plainness, and order in their speeches, which the learned 



IPS Of Still Life. 

call diah'ctifa, •v^hose province is to deteriiiiiie controversies, and resolve doubts 
by reasoning justly ; for although, like Moses, they practised moral duties, and 
were received into the sanctuary, yet they touched not on sacred things, otherwise 
than I)y means of their speeches. After this, they inquired into natural philosophy, 
or physics, having for (he subject, the universe, and all created beings; this science 
cleared their doubts and scruples, and prepared tliem for contemplating the glori- 
ous building of the heavens, in order to thank, their Creator for the knowledge 
received. Their last study was theology, which, as we have said, comprehends all 
sciences : this gives divines such a constant peace, as neither the regularity of hu- 
man deportment, purest eloquence, or the most exact incpiiries into nature, could 
afford them. But this unchangeable peace and lirm alliance with God, they obtain, 
by submitting their knowledge, inclinations, and carnal affections, to the rules 
prescribed by reason. This nmtual friendship, which the Pythagoreans esteemed 
the main point in philosophy, leads us into the most secret part of the sanctuary, 
in order to view the glory of God, till, at last, arriving at the highest degree of 
knowledge, we courageously defeat Osiris, or the enemy of our souls. 

Tiiough the aforesaid instruction consists of four parts, yet Solomon, the wisest 
of men, divides it into three sciences, to wit— ethics, physics, and metaphysics, 
which he has treated in his Proverbs, Ecclesiastes, and Song, or Canticum Canti- 
coaum; teaching in the Proverbs, moral obligations; in Ecclesiastes, the nature of 
things ; and, in his Song, the contemplation of things supernatural. This seems 
well to agree with the mention in Scripture of the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Ja- 
cob ; (or Abrahavis obeying God in all things, shews an example of moral duties: 
Isaacs digging wells, and searching the depths of the earth, signifies physics, or 
natural phiiosophj'^; and Jacob's dream of the ladder, and the ascent and descent 
of the angels thereon, l])e contemplation of divine things. Both the Hebrew, Greek, 
and Latin divines have largely treated this subject. Even the elements seem to 
inculcate this doctrine ; for the earth, water, and air, by their wonderful conjunc- 
tion, represent the different degrees of the sciences; the earth and moisture, im- 
plying the history of things, as a teacher of moral duties: the waters, disturbed 
by the winds, shew the turmoils happening in human actions, which ethics serve to 
allay: the air admonishes, that, at length raising the whole force of our thoughts 
upwards, we ought continually to contemplate the divine nature, called by the 
Greeks, Theologia, which is the top and limit of our understanding. We say 
nothing here of dialectica, because it is subservient to ethics, physics, and theology, 
in order to discourse of those three sciences. 

l>y the equilateral triangle we signify, the aim and purpose of a holy and inno- 
cent life ; because, to make it both edifying and happy, three duties are necessary, 



Of Still Life. IfMJ 

to wit — lo give our neif^lihour wIioIckjjiiio adviri-, to JiuIkc justly, :ui(l to «lo well; 
wherefore Pallas was by the lieatliens eaHed Trilonia, as haviiif^ th«- care of im- 
partial justice. The Algypfians and Greeks, who Mere chiefly famous for emble- 
matic leaniiii!^-, judiciously tuid< rstood by the triangle the assiduity of human 
understanding, in searching into things heavenly, earthly, and subterranean. Others 
would signify by it mathematics, physics, and metaphysics, with which the (ipinion 
of Socrates well agrees. 

Th(> square iiui»lies constancy and immoveableness ; because, however turned, 
it always shews four lines, and as many angles; these, though mathematical obser- 
vations, are very a|)plicable to those who love piety and other Christian virtues, 
since they remain constantly with them, and embalm their memories lo posterity. 
Aristotle, in his first Book of Moral Duties, and third Book to Tluodal, is of the 
same opinion, believing that man, by com[)arison, may be called scpiare, or perfect 
and pious. This quadrates with the Latin proverb: Qiiadraffomnn in se perfectum. 
et criminis expers ; i.e. The square is perfect, and not liable to censure. Ancient 
divines teach, that Noah's ark, which God commanded to be built square, signified 
the excellent j^astors of the church, by whose instruction, notwithstanding any 
snares or heresies, men were led to eternal happiness : for Adamantius exhorts to 
build square libraries, not of stone or wood, but of the books of the prophets, 
apostles, and teachers, out of which may be abundantly learnt true wisdom and 
divine mysteries; and, renouncing sin, to turn and adhere to the true and immutable 
corner-stone of salvation. 

The ancient M^gyptians hieroglyphically signified by the rock, firnmess and con- 
stancy ; wherefore David, speaking of God's assistance, says, " Thou art my rock." 
And our Saviour, imitating the duration of the church, says, " He will build it 
on a rock :" Agreeable whereto is the dream of Nehitr/iaduezzur, in which he saw a 
great image, whose head was of gold, breast and arms of silver, belly and thighs 
of brass, and legs and feet of iron and clay : and that a stone was cut out without 
hamis, which smote the image, and broke it in pieces, which the wind carried 
away, so that no place was found for them ; and the stone that smote the image 
became a great mountain, and tilled the whole earth. 

The palm-tree, as having the lower part of its stem thin and knotty, but higher 
up becoming thick, and agreeable for its continual elegant and spreading verdure, 
signifies, that how abject soever the condition of the righteous may be in the begin- 
ning, they at last gain wonderful beauty in virtues and good qualities. But let 
me add the words of the pious and learned Eucherius : " The palm-tree," says he, 
" differs from all others, because they are thickest downwards, and run tapering 
upwards, and with more pointed branches ; and these may be compared to world- 
lings, who, slighting the best things, seek their satisfaction only in the frail and 



200 Of Still Life. 

momoiitai y : tlu^so men spare no labour or troiiblo in heajting- riches ; will even pur- 
cliase leniporal lionours at the liazard of their lives ; but stop at once uhen they arc 
to bestow an honfs service on their Creator, or to succour a distressed neighbour; 
V hercas, the pious may be rightly compared to the palm-tree, which, by its tender 
stem, despising earthly pleasures, exalts its virtue on high, that it may adhere to 
and obey the will of the Creator : wherefore it is said, that the righteous shall grow 
and blossoni as the palm-tree. 

The cedar-tree, as yielding excellent and usefid fruit, is the emblem of mercy 
and piety ; two virtues best becoming the pillars of the church, who are " Con- 
tinually to watch over the lost sheep of the house of Israel,' and to practise works 
of mercy on them, according to St. James: " Pure religion and undefiled before 
God and the Father, is this, to visit the fatherless and widows in their afflictions, 
and to keej) himself unspotted from the world. 

We read in the Psalms, that " From the springing waters of Israel comes forth the 
praise of the Lord in the congregation of the saints :" by which divines understand 
the books of the law and prophets, which as springs of living waiters supplied the 
Israelites with the knowledge of God, and being tilled with his Spirit, their holy men 
composed hymns to the glory of his name. Several connnentations on scripture and 
illustrious instruments of the church would signify, by the springing waters, the apo- 
stles and first teachers; and jl[iV///^wi«« and the primitive fathers, the preaching of 
the gospel. And David, in Ps. civ. says, " He sends the springsinto the valleys which 
run among the hills ; they give drink to every beast of tiie field; thereby intimating, 
that no ])lace is so hilly and unattainable, which Gods law cannot penetrate."' 

Writers mention, that the elephant (who is known to be the most docible of qua- 
drupedes, and by nature superior to other beasts) particularly loves charity and 
piety; for as soon as the new moon enlightens the earth, he purifies himself in a 
clear river: and when sick, takes grass and other herbage witb his trunk, and flings 
it towards heaven, as if he thereby invoked the divine assistance in his weak condition. 

Scripture, as remarkably speaking of the stork, emblematically means a purified 
understanding, and a mind exalted above earthly things : for this bird always builds 
on the tops of the highest houses to save himself from the wiles of beasts ; and after 
hatching his young, is at continual war with the snake, which always creeping on the 
ground and into the holes thereof, is an end)lem of vicious afTections : wherefore, 
in imitation of the stork, men should exalt their minds and seek a dwelling place in 
heaven, where they will be freed from all the wiles of the flesh and the crafts of the 
devil. 

The ancients understood by the emblem of the cock, the immortality and divinity 
of the soul ; and J*j/f/iaonras commanded his followers to feed and nurse the cock, 
meaning that they should feed their souls with the knowledge of divine things; 



Of Still f.iff. 201 

■wherefore Socrates when dying, full of hope of a speedy union of his iiniuortul soul 
with the deity, said he was hound in duty loofler a cock to Mscutapius, meaning the. 
pljysician of the soul; for, knowing his dissolution was at hand, Ix- helieved he 
should now he cured of all his infirniilies. Vlutos followers and ronniif ntators .say, 
that the offering a cock implies the soul's departure for heaven, to piiMisli for ever 
tiie glory of Vhcnhus. 

By the nmstard-seed are signified things, whirh from small an(l mean beginnings 
produce plenty of fruit : wherefore our Saviour says, " If ye have faith as a grain of 
mustard-seed," &c. For though the seed of this plant he small, yet, heing duly hus- 
banded in good ground, it yields a plant surpassing all others, which in a sliorttime 
becomes a tree the fowls of the air to build in : and siich is the frnitfulness of 
divinity, which, proceeding from small seed, soon becomes a tree, the expansion of 
•whose branches shades the whole earth, and yields a place for the fowls of the air to 
lodge in ; or, according to //e?j/c/«"j«, " Men taken up with the contemplation of di- 
vine things." Other learned men say, That this seed implies the wonderful power of 
God, which, as small and contemptible seed, lies hid in the reading of scripture, and 
despised by many for its tartness ; but on chewing, strengthens and cleanses the 
stomach, corrects vapours and humidities disturbing the brain, and refines the taste, 
in order to our more exact search into the writings of wise men and divineraysteries : 
for, according to Horace, 

Nemo adedferus est, ut noji mitescerepossit, 
Simodo culturcB patientem commodat aurem. 

Or, 

The breasts remaining wild we need not fear, 
After good learning his admission there. 

But waving /Horace; our Saviour charges us " To search the Scriptures -," which 
some disciples, on a certain occasion, finding of too sharp and disagreeable a taste, 
thought too hard, and not be understood ; but being prepared with this seed, they' 
will appear better to us than we at first expected ; dispelling the darkness of our 
understanding, and purging it of all earthly humidities and evil thoughts, till with 
Hagar, we in any distress discover the fountain of living water in the wilderness of 
this life, wherewith to refresh and strengthen our fainting souls : moreover, the mus- 
tard-seed coming up green, and being with difficulty to be rooted out after sowing, 
implies the constant rise and propagation of divine truths : and those who have once 
tried the agreeable taste of the plant, will never be drawn from using it : this sprig 

VOL. n. 2 D 



203 Of Still Life. 

having got root in the heart, will grow and produce seed which wild beasts cannot 
tread down, cold or heat wither, or persecutions extirpate. By the same seed is also 
signified, a bright and vigilant soul, and a high understanding; for they who are 
seized with the lethargy, have their heads, after shaving, rubbed with it for their re- 
covery : and thus our circumcised hearts are likewise with the mustard seed cleansed 
from the lethargy of sin, for conversion. Pythagoras once tasting a leaf of this 
plant, afterwards much admired it, and found that its spirits flew upwards, as if as- 
cending to heaven ; for the virtue going up the nose to the brain, purges it, and clears 
the understanding. Democritns said, that a few grains of it boiled with other greens, 
made them soft and tender : lei us, in like manner, so mix the emblematic mustard- 
seed with our divine thoughts, that, when become tender, liiey may send a steam and 
sweet savour up to heaven, where our souls, united with God, can no more be affect- 
ed with hunger, thirst, or drowsiness, but continually employed in praising the Al- 
mighty. 

In this last composition relating to a divine, we have crowded together a great va- 
riety of objects, only to shew how fruitful this subject is in materials: for divinity, 
comprising philosophy, physics, dialeciicu, rhetoric, logic, &c. and each of these 
affording plentiful matter, the ingenious artist may, by consulting good authors, gain 
an inexhaustible treasure of thipgs ; and then, as he thinks proper, more easily 
leave out some, than having too few, represent them lame and defective to the know- 
ing. 



CHAP. IV. 

OF THE ORIGIN, NATURE, A ND QUALITY OF THE ROM A N TRI UMPII A L 
CROWNS, AND OTHER REWARDS OF JIONOUR. 

VV E learn from history, how noble the ancient Romans were in gratifying thevirtjue, 
valour, and conduct of their citizens, soldiers, and commanders, besides their ordinary 
pay, with triumphal crowns, jewels, and other presents, as an example to others to 
tread in the same steps, for the good of their country: and we judge this poipt;yei:;y 
proper to be handled next to still life, as it will conduce to make the emblematic 
Reuse of a good piece more perfect. 

After a comn)ander had gained either a great advantage or victory over the enemy 
jn a siege, battle, or sea-fight, he, according to custom, made an exact inquiry wha^ 
persons had behaved wj^h the greatest valour and resolutiou; and then ;placing hioi- 



Of Still Lift: 20.i 

self oil a stage, raised for that purpose, and returriina; thanks to the gods for the vic- 
tory obtained, he commended the army in general for their steady adhin nee, and 
each company in particular which had shewed the greatest courage : tlien naming 
them one after another, he extolled their valour, styling them friends and lovers <»f 
their country, and telling th«;ni how highly they obliged the commonwealth by tlieir 
loyalty an(M)rave behaviour : and thereupon, in the name of the senate, he distri- 
buted amongthem many rich presents, consisting of crowns of gold and silver, gir- 
dles, gold chains, bracelets, rings for ears and fingers, armour, shields, pikes, swordn, 
javelins, standards, fine horse furniture, and other elegantly wrought warlike instru- 
ments ; which none durst use or wear, but those who had purchased them in the 
manner aforesaid. The Romansiory abounds with such occurrences, but especially 
Tilns Liviits, who relates, that the consul Papirivs Citrsor bestowed gold bracelets 
among four hundred men, and afterwards magnificently rewarded a whole legion. 
He tells us the same things of Scipio when he waged w ar with Spain and other coun- 
tries : and we read, JLucius Antonius, son of Lucius Fabius Quadratus, was twice 
dignified by the emperor of Tiberius, with gold ornaments for the neck and arms. 

But besides the native valour and military discipline for which the ancient Romans 
were particularly famous, we learn from Pliny and Salinus, that oftentimes a single 
person by his virtue and valour obtained all the aforesaid ornaments : as we see in 
Marcus Sergivs, who received almost all those tokens of honour, and even in the 
battles of Thrasimeyuis and 2\ehir, and the bloody one at Cannce, (in all which the 
Romans were defeated by Haimibat) he obtained a civic crown. It is related of this 
Sergius, that having in battle lost his right hand, and fixed an iron one in its place, 
he so managed with his left, as one day to slay four armed men one after another; 
and that in fights and skirmishes he had received twenty-three wounds in the fore- 
parts of his body: and yet this man is inferior to Lucius Sicifiriiui Dentatus, over- 
seer of the city of Rotne ; of whom Pliny, Solinus, Valerius Maximus, and Aulus 
Gillius unanimously report, that his great merit had gained him from the senate 
above three hundred and twenty honorary presents of all sorts, and that he nind 
times made his entrance in triumph with the generals, whom by his valour and conduct 
he had assisted in their conquests ; and that he could shew a great number of lances 
and pikes unironed, which as so many tokens of honour fell to his share ; as also 
eighteen gold and eighty-three silver neck-ornaments, twenty-five costly liorse-fur- 
nitures, a hundred and forty bracelets, fourteen civic crowns, eight castrenses, three 
murals, one obsidional, aiul I know not how many naval or rostral crowns : he had 
received forty-five wounds, and those in his fore-jjart^ only ; disarmed the enemy 
thirty-four times, and fought one hundred and twenty battles : in a word, he was 
styled the Roman Achilles. 

2 d2 



204 Of Still Lift. 

The crowns bestowed on nieu of particular merit had degrees of dignity, and par- 
ticular names suiting the nature of the victories; as, corana obsidionalis, cixica, tri- 
umphalis, ovalis, viuralis, navuUs, and castrensis. 

The coyoMff obsidionuUs, or ohiiiWon^X crown, was the most excellent of all ; for 
vheu a Roman town or Ciimp, besieged and reduced to extremity, was relieved by a 
Roman captain, the commonwealth rewarded the action in the most noble manner, 
\iz. this crown, though made of grass, was accounted of more worth tiian if of 
gold and enriched with precious stones ; the grass was pulled up in the field of 
battle, wherefore this croAvn is said to be sacred to Monv, which Boccalius seems 
to affirm, possibly because the grass grows mostly in open places and fields of en- 
campment. The great Qiunliis Fabins was, in reward of his merit, by the general 
consent of the senate aii<l llomcm people, honoured with this crown, when in the 
second Punic war he delivered the city from the approaching ruin and extremity 
which Hannibal had brought it to. ^milius Scipio had the same gift in Africa, for 
rescuing the consul Manlius and his forces out of the power of the enemy. Calpur- 
7iiiis obtained the same honour in Sicily ; as did also the incomparable Lucius Sicin- 
nius Dentatus. 

The corona civica, or civic crown, was given to him who had preserved a Roman 
citizen from imminent danger, or released from captivity ; this crown was made of 
oak sprigs and leaves with the fruit hanging at it, and by the general's order, who 
gave it to the person set at liberty, put on the deliverer's head : but though a person 
had saved a king or other great ally of the Romans from falling into the enemy's 
hands, yet he got not this crown, which was only due to him -who had freed a Ro- 
man citizen from death or slavery. Pliny says, this crown was also presented to him 
who slew the first of the enemy besieging a Roman town. It was next in dignity to 
the coro7ia obsidionalis, and w orn on several occasions, especially on the great festi- 
vals and solemnities; and in the plays, and other public sports, those who were 
honoured with it sat next to the senate, and at their entrance were received by 
them with all the marks of respect. These persons, with their fathers and grand- 
fathers, were entirely exempted from all charges and taxes, as having begot sons so 
beneficial to the commonwealth ; they were also at liberty to accept or refuse public 
offices. Several Romans obtained this honour, especially the aforesaid valiant Lu- 
ciiis Siciiniius Dentatus, who fourteen times gloried in it; as Cnpitolinus did six. 
The brave iSlarcus Sergius likewise received it from the senate, and, in a word, all 
those who in an extraordinary manner had benefitted the city or country. The 
famous Cicero was so crowned by a particular decree of the senate, for having hap- 
pily delivered the city from the imminent danger of the Catiline conspiracy. These 
crowns, though seemingly simple, as being made of grass and sprigs of trees, were 



Of Still Life. 2()A 

yet ofgreiittT accuunt tlian tliost.- of gold and jewels : they were of oak, because the 
acorn was tlie most ancient foo<l, and l)ecanse that tree was sacred to Jupiter, the 
tutelar j>o(l. The victors in the Capitohnc j^anies, instituted hy Dnniitian, as al>o 
stage-j)Uiyers, musicians, and poets, were likewise crowned with oak-leaves. 

The corona triump/ialis, or triumphal crown, was given to the general, who, hav- 
ing overthrown the enemy in a pitched battle, had thereby either saved a Jloman 
ally, or annexed some dominion to the commonwealth ; wherefore he was also in- 
troduced into tiiccity in triumph ridinc, in a<^ilt chariot drawn by four, or, according 
to some, six white horses : this crown was made of laurel, sacred to Apollo for its 
greenness and red berries, and signified that the victory is attended with much 
trouble, (lander, and bloodshed. ISextiis relates, that the soldiers used to follow the 
chariot of tlu; coii<|ueror, also crowned with laurel, to purify them on entering the 
city from the blood of the slain. 13y the sufl'rage of the senate, the victors in the 
wrestling' games were honoured with the same crown ; and it was anciently given to 
men eminent for heroic poetry and eloquence : wherefore Hcsiod says, " The muses 
had crowned him wilh a sceptre and crown of laurel." The Roman |)rifsts and 
soothsayers likewise crowned themselves with lam'el : even those who followed the 
army wore a sprig of it. on iheir helmet, instead of a feather, because the tree was 
accounted and called by them a foretelling one. 

The corona oiaiis, (given to a general or other prime person, who had beat the 
enemy with little resistance, or having undertook the war without the express com- 
mand of the senate, had gained some considerable ("ortres^, town, or plnce) was made 
of myrtle-leaves, a tree sacred to Venus. This crown denoted that the war was car* 
ried on witiiout great bloodshed; and therefore public rejoicings were made for it, 
but without nuich triumph. When a victory was gained over slaves, or pirates 
and robbers, the victors had the same sort of crowns, because such enemies were 
judged unworthy of feeling the Roman valour. The principal generals who ob- 
tained this, and the triumphal crowns aforesaid, I shall mention among the 
triumphs. 

The co/'owa muralis, or mural crown, was the reward of a soldier or officer, who 
in assaulting a town of the enemy first advanced a ladder, and valiantly mounted 
the walls, and made way for conquest. This crown was of gold, representing the 
battlements of the town-wall they had conquered; or else being like that which the 
poets ascribe to Cybele, the mother of t!ie gods, or Mother Earth ; round it Avere en- 
graven lions, the emblems of valour and generosity. Suetonius relates, that com- 
mon soldiers received it as well as captains and generals, on a public testimony 
from others, that they first gained the top of the enemy's walls. Manlius Capilolinus 



206 Of Still Life. 

^vas, according to Pliny, first honoured with this ciown : and Scipio gave it to 
Q. Trehelliiis and Sextus Digitus, on their jointly first mounting the enemies walls. 

The corona yiavalis, or naval crown, was given to him who in a sea-engagement 
first entered into an enemy's ship, and made himself master of it. This crowu 
was also of gold, and its circle set round with ships prows; Marcus Varro disdain- 
ed not to receive it at the hands of Pompey the Great, for subduing the sea- 
rovers. Augustus presented it to Marcus Agrippa, on his gaining the upper hand 
in the sea-fight ofl' Sicily, as he also did to Sylla, and several others. The senate 
gave it, together with a gold shield and other honourable gifts, to the emperor Clau- 
dius, for having, soon after he obtained the imperial dignity, vanquished three hun- 
dred thousand barbarians, in rebellion against the empire, and sunk two thousand 
of the enemies ships. 

The same crown was the present of the ancient Athenians to those who fitted out 
ships of war for the public service, or first landed and intrenched on the enemies 
ground. 

The Romans^ in process of time, placed a hedge-hog on the circle of this crown, 
because that creature's defence lying in his skin wherein he rolls himself up, he wag 
esteemed the emblem of a sea-fight. This crown is ascribed to Diana, or the moon, 
as she influences the sea and its floods. 

The corona castrensis, was given by the chief commander, to him who in battle 
first entered the enemy's camp. This crown was a gold circle, to which were affixed 
palisades of the same metal. They also had it who first destroyed the palisades of 
the enemy, and thereby opened a door for victory. This crown was the reward of 
a great number of Romans in those times of valour. 

Besides these degrees of honour, the Romans bestowed several privileges on those 
who excelled in warlike achievements, causing them, in the public pleadings, to sit 
in the sella curiilis, or the pretors ivory chair, as we read of the great Scipio; and 
it often happened, since all things centred in the voice and consent of the people, 
that some of the soldiery were invested with greater power and privileges. AU 
generals, who by conquest had enlarged the empire, were allowed to set up their 
statues in the consular dress. Augustus, to eternize the memories of all such gene- 
rals as had augmented the state, ordained, that next to the gods the first veneration 
should I)e paid to them ; and for that purpose built a gallery in iiis palace, wherein 
to set their statues with all their honorary titles, notifying by proclamation, that he 
did this for himstlf and successors, as an exauiple to posterity to imitate the vir- 
tues and valour of such illustrious personages. Moreover it was a laudable and 
conKtant custom of the senate, to assign the children of such as fell in battle, the 
liberal enjoymrnt of the pay of their deceased parents ; and to the old and maimed 



Of Still Life. 207 

soldiors, as many lands in tlif: provinces they concjnercd, as would comfortahly siif)- 
port tlieni and tiieir f'aniilios for tlic roniaindor of their lives. On this footing, llie 
city of Seville in Spain, and the fruitful country round it, were made a Roman colony 
by Julius Ccesar, and Corduba and several other places in divers parts of the world 
were applied to the sanic purpose. In a word, lionian services never missed a re- 
ward ; and for this reason the commonwealth produced more brave men than any 
other nation whatsoever; every one exerting himself to attain all the degrees of 
honour by the strictest virtue. But, on the other hand, the vicious and cowardly 
were in proportion to their offences as severely punished, either by deprivation of 
their honourable offices and Allure hopes, or else by being whipped with rods till 
the blood came, or loaded with irons and made slaves. 7\lus Livius relates, that a 
troop of Appiiis Claudius, cowardly deserting a certain post which they were set to 
guard, was rigorously punished, by every tenth mans being put to death according 
to lot, without respect of persons. Jitlins Frontinus writes, that Marcus Antonvus 
caused a certain troop, who had not dnly defended a town-wall and fortification, to 
undergo the same fate. There were many other methods for punishing the disobe- 
dience of the Roman soldiery, which I shall pass by, and conclude with Horace, 

adsit 



Regula peccatis quce poenas eroget aquas. 

That is, 

Crimes do require the penalties of the laws. 
And strictest justice greatest reverence draws. 

CHAP. V. 

OF THE SOLEMNITIES OF THE ROMAN TRIUMPHS. 

Xwo motives generally incite a man to do great things, either in times of peace or 
war ; to wit, honour and immortal fame, or riches and protit. Generous souls 
always aspire at the former, and reject the latter as below them. The Roman go^ 
vernment knew perfectly well how to make its advantage of these inducements, in 
the encouragements given to its subjects ; and we shall begin with the triumphs, by 
which they honoured and roused the valour of their heroes. 

The triumph was an entrance and welcome of a general, by decree of the senate. 



208 Of Still Life. 

after a happy expediUon and the conclusion of a war, whereby, in the most solemn 
and pompons manner thoy shewed him their great esteem. On the day of entry, 
the inhabitants of all tiie towns flocked to Rome, and the whole city, temples, 
streets, gates, houses, and windows were hung with all sorts of costly stuffs, in 
gold, silver, and silk, and beautifully decked with great variety of green branches 
and flowers. In a word, nothing was wanting to shew either the power, magnifi- 
cence, or joy of the Rotnaiis on this occasion, l^he senate, clergy, noI>ility, and 
most eminent citizens (and therefore the greatest part of Rome) richly dressed, 
met the conqueror without the tow n gates. He sat in an ivory chair, called sedes 
curnlis, in a gold chariot sparkling with precious stones, and drawn either by four 
or six white horses magnificiently equipped, and was dressed in a garment of pur_ 
pie and gold, called toga pnlmata, crowned with laurel and the staff' of command in 
his hand, or else a winged image of Victory holding a crown of laurel or a palm 
branch. Sometimes this figure was placed behind him, holding in its right hand a 
crown of laurel over his head, as we see it i»oth ways in the ancient bass reliefs and 
medals. The prisoners of war dressed like slaves, and with shorn heads, and the 
king or general, with the most eminent of the vanquished were led in fettered 
couples before the chariot, which the Roman legions followed in troops or compa- 
nies, on foot and horseback in their order, richly armed, and with their pikes and 
lances twined with laurel, as a token of general joy; but they who had most signal- 
ized themselves in valour, marched on each side of the chariot with crowns of laurel 
on their heads, and palm branches in their hands. Before the conqueror went like- 
wise some carriages laden with the arms, banners, gold and silver vases, jewels, 
gold and silver coin, taken as booty from the enemy, together with the gifts and pre- 
sents he had received from the friends and allies of the Romans. Next came some 
castles and towers of wood, elegantly carved, resembling the towns and fortresses 
gained of the enemy. In their passage the army feigned some battles, in so lively a 
manner, as thereby to affect the spectators with all sorts of passions, as sorrow, joy, 
and fright. The variety of those sights was so great and excessive as to spin out the 
cavalcade for three or four days; and, being arrived at the capital, all the arms and 
booty, called Manubiie, taken from the enemy, were hung up and deposited in the 
temple of Jupiter, as an eternal memorial of the virtue of the con«iuerors. Here the 
senate returned them thanks for the service done to their country, and commonly 
causing the victor as a coadjutor in the government, the joy concluded with a magni- 
licont entertainment. But for forming a better idea of these triumphs, and the order 
tlierein observed, I shall, as far as my memory will permit, give some examples of 
them out nf the Roman histories. 



Of Still Life. 209 

Plutarch dcscriljcs tlio tiimnpli voted to Vaulus JEmiiiu.i, for liis victory over the 
irrea.1 Versens, king of Macedonia, in this maimer : — . 

First, the people of Ro)re nu<i the iicighbourii)g towns UKignifieieiitly droiyscd, ap- 
peared at the doors and windows in the baU;onies, garri^^ts, and on tops of houses, iu 
great inultitndes, as spectators of the solenniity. All the temples in 7to>/(C, richly 
adorned, were set open. The honsci^^and. street^ were wonderfully garni^.Ji((l wjtU 
all sorts of costly hangings, and filled, with greens, flowers, choice perfumes, and a. 
thousand other fine and delightful things. And as the concourse of people was very 
great, men with staves were appointed to make and preserve a lane or passage 
through them, for the niarcl) of the (riumphers. The lirst day was spent in the pro- 
cession of the banners, standards, ensigns, statues, colosses, pictures, and figures — all 
placed on carriages elegantly painted, and slowly driven. The second day was taken 
xip with the passage of the bright armour of the vanquished king and yiaccdonlatis, 
placed on chariots, or neat carriages made for that purpose. To these succeeded three 
thousand men, partly carrying the gold and silver coin in three hundred and fifty 
large silver dishes and vases, each weighing three talents, and carried by four men- 
The remainder of these men bore fountains and stately vases of silver, artfully 
■wrought. On the third day appeared the first company, preceded by a great num- 
ber ofpipers, drums, hautboys, and trumpets, making a warlike music, as if preparing 
for J^n onset. These were followed by a hundred and twenty cows, decked w ith gilt 
horns and sacred linen coverings, and all sorts of green garlands wreathed with 
flowers, led for victims, by beautiful young men richly dressed, and succeeded by a 
company of children, carrying gold and silver dishes for the use of the sacrifice. 
After these came the bearers of the gold vases with gold coin, in nundjer seventy- 
two, followed by several great officers of the retinue of Antigumis, and .Sclcucus, late 
kings of Macedonia, and even of Vcrseus himself, carrying the excessive large gold 
vessel, weighing ten talents, and enriched with all sorts of precious stones and dia- 
monds, which was made by jEmiliuss express order. Next to these appeared the 
body-chariot of the conquered king, and therein his coat of arms, diadem, or royal 
head-band, crown, and sceptre. Then followed the children of the unhappy prince, 
attended by a great number of his courtiers, as stewards, secretaries, and other such 
dpmestics, weeping and lamenting their slavery in such a manner, as, considering 
the vicissitude of human affairs, to raise compassion in the spectators ; especially the 
sight of the three innocent children, two sonsand a daugliter, who, by reason of their 
tender age, were insensible of their unhappy condition. After these appeared the 
father dressed in black, according to the custom of his country, and walking full of 
terror and concern, on this occasion. ZVext to him came his friends, favourites, aud 
coulidents, w ho fixing their eyes on him, and bitterly weeping, moved manj of the 

VOL. II. 2 E 



210 Of Still Life. 

Bomans themselve.s with tears in their eyes to pity both their and the king's sorrow- 
ful condition. To these succeeded the gold crowns which the ancient free cities had 
presented to the conqueror, as a gratulation for his victory : and then came JEviilius 
himself, sitting on a gold triumphal chariot, dressed in a purple garment richly 
wroiightwith gold, with alaurel branch in his hand, and a crown of the same on his 
head. He was followed by the army, horse and foot, orderly marshalled under their 
proper ensigns, having garlands of laurel and palm branches in their hands, and 
singing hymns in praise of the victor and victory. Thus Vaulus ^mi/ius ujade his 
triumphal entrance into the famous city of Rome, where he offered the booty in 
the temple of Jupiter Capitolinus, and returned the god thanks for his victory and 
triumph. 

All other triumphs were managed much in the same manner, with abatement of 
some circumstances, according to the pleasure of the general who was honoured 
with them. 

And, though we find the solemnities regulated by laws, precisely directing in what 
manner, at what time, and through what gates and streets the cavalcade was to pass ; 
yet, as for the plays, shows, and other less appurtenances, they were lessened or aug- 
mented at the Avill of the victor, -with a liberty to chuse the chariot. History tells 
us, that the chariot was commonly drawn by four white horses ; but we also find 
bulls used for the same purpose. Vompey the Great, having subdued Africa, made 
his entry on a chariot drawn by elephants. Suetonius relates, that Julius Casar 
triuniphed in one with fortyjelephants. The emperor, Gordianus, triumphed in the 
same manner. Caius Marmi having subjected y4/»i<:a and extei^ded the Roman, jn- 
risdiction into Egypt, was drawn by the same kind of beasts. Scipio Agricanus 
triumphed with elephants for the same reason. The emperor Augustus on his vic- 
torious return from the east, and ending the war with Anthony, was, by the consent 
of the senate and people of Rome drawn by four elephants. The emperor Vespasian 
had the same honour on finishing several great wars in the east : the elephants de- 
noting the conquest of countries, where those creatures breed. Flavins, in his his- 
tories, tells us, that the emperor Aurelian, who was king of the Goths., made his en- 
trance on a chariot drawn by stags. But M.arcus Antonius made use of tame lions, 
intimating, that in the civil wars he would make the most valiant submit to his com- 
mands : which Cicero, in his Orations, called PhilippictB, objects him, saying, That 
his triumphal chariot with lions implied an arbitrary man aiming at monarchy. 

The Roman generals when they triumphed, had also a custom of carrying one or 
more young children in their chariots ; as we gather from Cicero's speech before 
Murena. Some used to be attended with a great number of strange wild beasts, as 
lions, bears, tigers, rhinoceroses, panthers, dromedaries, and such like; as Josepkwt 



Of Still Life. 211 

in his histories of tlie Vespasians, mentions. OthcrH had vocal and inHtrumental 
music and other diversions. Among these triumphs, those of Vompeif the Great, 
Ceesar, the two Scipios brothers, and several emperors, had nomethiii)^ singular, as 
Slondus in his Treatise, intitled Home Triumphant, largely discourses. The tri- 
umphing conquerors were likewise allowed to set up their statues in temples and 
public places, and to erect columns and costly structures of marble, called Arcus 
Triumphales, whereon were carved in bass relief their battles and victories for eternal 
monuments to posterity; remains whereof we see to this day at Itome nnd elsewhere. 
Herein the Romans imitated the ancient Greeks, who, for a memorial of great actions 
set up trophies, made in the following manner : 

In the place of victory they fixed the highest tree to be found in the neighbour- 
hood, and then chopping off the branches, they, in honour to the victor, hung on the 
remaining limbs the arms of the vanquished, calling the tree Tropheeum, from the 
Greek word Tropi, which signifies overthrow, flight, and giving way, because the ene- 
mies were in that place put to flight. The i2oman5 afterwards made use of them for 
the same purpose; for Sallustius in his Memoirs relates that Pompey having conquer- 
ed the Spaniards planted his trophies on the tops of the highest Vyrenees: and this 
custom afterwards grew into such esteem, that they were made of stone. But, ac- 
cording to scripture, the usage was very ancient among other nations ; for it appears 
in chap. 15. of 1 Sam. that Saul having vanquished Agog, king of the Amalekites 
and being come to Mount Carmel, set up an Arcus Triumphalis, or Place. In a 
word, the honour of triumphing was accounted by the Romans as a token of the 
highest esteem; and therefore, to obtain it, their generals spared for no toils or dan- 
gers in warlike achievements. Add to this, the riches commonly arising from such 
glory, by the presents made them by the allies and the booty of the enemy. 

In my opinion, historians have described the matter so circumstantially, on pur- 
pose to put princes and governors in mind of rewarding the deserts of their generals, 
soldiers, and men of merit, and that the unskilful, cowardly, and unfit for command 
might not be ranged with those who willingly sacrificed their fortunes, capacities, and 
bodily labours to the benefit of their country. Accordingly to ¥aulus Orosiris three 
hundred and twenty persons have been honoured with the Roman triumph, of whom 
the emperor Vrobus, in whose reign the fabric of the Roman monarchy began to de- 
cay, was the last. 

Let us here subjoin a Grecian triumph. Antiochus, surnamed Epiphaiies, or the 
illustrious king of Syria, having heard of the aforesaid glorious triumph of Paultis 
JEmilius, was so puffed up with ambition, that he resolved to make a sort of one 
surpassing it in magnificence. To which end he caused proclamations to be made 
throughouthiskingdora, that, at a certain time, he would at Daphnes hold a grand 

5 K 2 



212 Of Still Life. 

aiul umoMuniui t()innaiii(iit : which riirio^ity drew nut of (Tieccc and the neighbour- 
ing- coiiiitrii's II gnat coiicour.<e of people; and the eavalcade was in tlie foUowintj 
manner : 

riivjt, niarelicd five thousand (ircrian youns!: men armed lionmn like, followed f)y 
as many Mi/sums, ijnely habitetl after their fashion. Next appeared tiiree thousand 
T/itacians and live thousand Galutiuus, followed by a vast number of other nations, 
called, for their silver shield, Argyraspides. After these came two hundred and 
lil'tv ranks of sword-players, called by the Romruis, gladiators; and then a thousand 
kuights, with ehaplets of gold about their heads, and their horses costly equipped 
with gold embroidered housings, and gold and silver bridles. These were followed 
by a thousand other knights, called companions, associated with some of the king's 
friends and conlidents. Then ajjpeaied a thousand noblemen on foot, and after them 
a thousand other knights, called the king's troops. Next came one thousand five 
hundred knights in gold armour, over which they had coats of armour richly em^ 
broidered with gold and silver, and artfully adorned with all sorts of animals. To 
these succeeded a hundred chariots, each drawn by six horses, followed by forty 
others, each with four. After these a])peared a chariot with elephants, followed 
by thirty-six of the same kind of creatures, and those by eight hundred boys, 
having garlands and crowns ornamented with gold in their hands. Next catne a 
thousand fat oxen with eight hundred Indian elephants teeth. Aftei" these were 
carried an infinite number of idols and figures of deceased persons who had been 
famous for arts and sciences, dressed in gold and silver stuffs adorned with precious 
stones, with their names, dignities, and actions written on the pedestals. Then came 
slaves bearing idols, representing night and morning, mid-day and evening, and an 
infinite numlier of gold and silver vessels of great value. Next appeared six hun- 
dred of the king's pages dressed in gold stuft's, followed by two hundred ladies car- 
rying gold boxes, filled with all manner of rich perfumes and odoriferous balm, and 
these by forty sedans of massy silver, carrying as many ladies, and those by eighty 
gold sedans with ladies dressed in gold, silver, and jewels. The streets abounded 
with all sorts of rich oils, balms, and perfumes. This cavalcade lasted thirty days 
successively, attended with plays, tournaments, and shows ; during which time, every 
person, after perfuming himself, was allowed to sit at the royal tables, one thousand 
five hundred in number, and to feast at the king's expense. To proceed to the 
Romans. 

Another solemnity obtained among them, called Ovatio; which was inferior to the 
triumph in some of its requisites : for instance, if the victor was not of consular or 
proconsular dignity, or had met with little resistance fr6m the eneihy, or gained the 
victory without great blood shed, or had overcome people of small worth, or, as we 
said, speaking of the corona ovalis, when the war was undertaken without the ex- 



Of Stilt ■'Lift. 213 

prt'ss coinnjand of-Uiesfiuiti^.^a; ^*hv such casoa, tlie vitUjis.wcr«.«c>lcTnnIy •wel- 
comed willitlic ovutio, in the followiiij? inannarel- iVfio') t- '' .riio^ .vrt '\u IxMi-.q 

Thea^tiioral LMitwcd tlic city on horseback, oi', as anrientfy, oii foot, rinwnfd with 
invrtit', (a dec siicitd [oVemts, beoauso theivictory was g'airu-d pot in a inartral man- 
ner, hut in a iiianiicr l)ecoii)in<^ that goddcs8! and women, as ^Im/m* (re/(iu3fM\yii; and 
tho troops ill their procession appeared not in afniK ; and instearl of <h-viniH, trumpets, 
andJotJier Wiuhke instiuments, their musi(* was tlutes and otlier soft sounds, Tlie 
general (iitered with tiie booty in an orderly manner, folhiMed by his army, and the 
senate sol(imuly received him wit^iout the citys^ates highly commendiii2; his actions. 
Histories tell us, that several great fjenerals suet! for and accepted this honour. The 
first was Post/iinnius Libcrtiis, on his having subdued the Sabines, and next Marciix 
Marcclliis-.itter the coiKjuest of Si/raruse. tSuclonius relates, that y4wi,''«5//«, after tlie 
battle o<" i?/<i/i/j/«, and' oni finishing the war in .SVct/jr, oijtained that honour. And 
Pliiii/ says, that several generals denied by tlte senatethe hononrof the great triumph, 
were decreeil the ovatio; which was so called, from the generals oflering a sheep, in 
Latin oris, when he came to the capital, instead of a bull, sacrificed in the great 
triumph. Others think the word is derived from the shouts of the people, who used 
tocfy, Oe! or else Ove! Whatever the truth' is, this solemn entrance was always 
called by the i?«>w(aM.v, Ovatio. i 

Other triumphs of these people I shall for brevity omit speaking of. He who 
wants furtiier information may read Ajjpia?ins Alcranc/rinus and Ammiannus Marcelli^ 
jius; the former describing the triumph o(iSctpio Africanus, and the latter that of the 
emperor Coiistantins. 

• i-.o. v.» raoit b&itr \-V!!; oi<ivr .loot uo eisnoin li^Ht;'." 119M 

■'yft'^'HE MANNER OF THE FOUR PRINCIPAL AND PUBLIC GRECIAN 
' ! GAMES, AND TO WHOSE HONOUR INSTITUTED. ' 

J. HE antiquity and manners of the Grecian games being somewhat unknown to 
many curious artists, 1 think it will be acceptable to give a short description, as well 
as I can, of the four principal games so highly and so often extolled by the G-reek 
and Roman writers. 

• The firstand principal were called the Olympic ^zxaes, held near the cityof O/ym- 
joia, in the province of Elis, and instituted in honour of Jupiter Oli/mpivs by the 
Idoen Hercules and his four brothers, JPceoneus, Idas, Jasius, and Epimedes, meeting 
together from IMount Ida in Candia ; and, being five brethren, they were styled the 
Idccan dactyls. These games being celebrated every fire years with great solemnity, 



214 Of Still Life. 

the ancients therefore reckoned their time by Olympiads, thereby understanding a 
period of five years. They consisted of five sorts of exercises, vi%. running, wrest- 
ling, boxing, throwing the coit, and leaping. The place of exercise was fenced in 
with pales, and no spectator was suffered to come within it. 

Some pretend these games were instituted by Jupiter, after he had destroyed the 
giants who attempted to storm heaven ; and that Apollo had got the preference in out- 
running Mercury; that Mars bore away the prize in wrestling, boxing, &c. Others 
prove, that each of the aforesaid brethren invented his game and exercise, and that 
being five in number, they were from the five fingers named dactyls, Daclylos in 
Greek, signifying a finger. 

The Greeks called these five exercises Pentathlon, and the Latins Quinquertium. 
Two of them had a dependence on the legs, viz. running and leaping; two on the 
arms, as coits and boxing, and the wrestling respected both arms and legs. The 
victor in all the five exercises was by the Cfreeks called Pancratiastes ; a word com- 
pounded of Pan and Krdtos, signifying a bestowing a whole force of the body. 
In boxing all advantages might be taken for overcoming the antagonist, and the 
prize was adjudged to him who gained his point most dexterously. Accordingly, 
they struck with fists and elbows, kicked, bit, scratched, and sprained the fingers, 
hands, and other parts of the body. They even endeavoured to thrust out each 
others eyes with their thumbs. In short no artifice was omitted for gaining the 
victory. 

We shall briefly relate in. what manner the aforesaid five exercises were performed. 

The circus, wherein they run on foot, was originally a stadium, or six hundred geo- 
metrical feet in length : but in the fourth Olympiad they doubled it. This race 
was at first on foot, and in a light dress: but afterwards on horse back and in armour. 
Men called runners on foot, were also admitted armed from top to toe ; this exercise 
being judged very proper for the bodies of warriors. The first victor herein was 
Demarntus of Herea: and the hymns sung in their honour sufficiently testify their 
running in armour. But the first who got the prize in running without armour, was 
Chorcebus of Flis, after a long contest with him about it. Arrachion of Phigalia 
obtained the prize in the second and third exercises ; and Polycrates of Messene, a 
man of noble extraction, got nmch honour and glory hi the fourth, wherein he was 
victor. 

The wrestling was undertaken after the body had been thoroughly anointed in 
oilier to prevent a. gripe, and then daubed with fine dust to dry the sweat. Thus 
prepared, the wrestlers entered the lists, and began with seizing the hands, then 
tlie arms and body under the short ribs, &c. Thus endeavouring by various 
rap^hqdp of strength aflid dexterity ii^.kicHing, pushing, and other tricks, to fliqg 



Of Still Life. 215 

one another on their l)ackH ; for a fall on (he helly wont for nolhinpf. Rf-fori- Ihfy 
entered thi' ring tliey ranwd their parts to he soiitiflly nihhe*!, (f> make tlierri more 
supph' and ngile. 

Boxiiiif and fightinj^ with sliiijfs were the most dangerous exerciseH. Tin- fdniier 
was anciently performed with ox-leather thongs tied about the hands, by uhirli with 
wonderfid activity they dealt earh other with very hard blows, but the slings r on- 
sisted of small leather straps, armed at the ends with litth; leaden italls, the blow 
whereof, when it happened on the head, laid the adversary <lead. 

The coit was a tiat, round, heavy piece of stone or lead, (o try the force of 
arras and hands, and to see who could fling highest and furthest: an exercise still 
in use in many places to this day; but with this difference, that the anri< nts, with 
a leg lifted up, threw the coit at a mark set upon a small pyramid, and resembling 
a pine-apple. 

The fifth exercise was less perilous, as consisting only of divers manners of 
leaping. 

The ancient garlands or crowns given as a prize to the victor on these occasions 
were made of olive leaves, but they varied according to the times ; for they were 
afterwards composed of couch grass, willow, laurel, myrtle, oak, palm, and wild 
parsley leaves ; as Vlutarch in the life of Colo Uticensis relates. But when made of 
olive leaves, they chose a select kind, called Calisteplianos, i. e. beautiful crown, hav- 
ing hanging branches like the myrtle, very- proper for twisting garlands. The leaves 
of such garland dffered much from others, in that being white without, the green 
when twisted was inward ; whereas the others were white within, and appeared 
green without. Hercules and his brethren first brought this plant into Greece from 
the northern countries, as Pausanias in his Olympus tells us. 

ThePhythian games were instituted long before ihe Isthmian, yet after the Olympic, 
and celebrated in honour of Apollo for his victory over the frightful serpent Python. 
-Some think they were so called from Pythos, the place of celebration, or else from 
tlie (jrr<'<'A- word Pythestai, to consult; because they there consulted the oracle, in 
order to know the events of things to come. The exercises in these games only 
differed in the Olympic in this, that the Phythian were performed under the sound of 
all sorts of vocal and instrumental music. These games, from time to time, had se- 
veral alterations in form and solemnity, after the institution of the Pancratium or 
Quinquertiam : and it is related, that in the first • Pythiades, wherein the most illus- 
trioas heroes and gods of the ancients entered the lists for the sake of the prize ; 

* Pythiades sig^mfies a certain number oft/ears in the Pythian games. 



^16 Of Still Lift: 

Castor prevailed in the horse-race, Pollux iu boxuig, Callais in running- on fo^l. 
Zethees in running in complete armour, Peleus in throwing the coit, Telanioniiu- 
Avrcstliii}^, and Hercules in the Pancratium, or all the games. >: ^yij 

In each of these games and exercises tl»e victors were crowned ^Vitjl laui^el, wIikIi 
in particular was consentrated to them; because the ancients believedj by what they 
have feigned of Peneauss daughter, with whom Apollo was so much enamoured, and 
who was metamorphosed into that tree, that the god took a singular delight in it. 
But, others will have the institution of the Phythian games to be long before Apollo's 
amour with the beautiful Daphne: and before, the laurel bore that distinction, both 
the triumphal and victors crowns and garlands were made of palm or oak-leaves ;,as 
Ovid in his first book of Metamorphoses testifies. Plutarch and Pausanias relate, 
that Theseus on his return from Creta, adorned the victors iu the games instituted in 
honour of Apollo with garlands of palm, as tokens of praise and renown ; for t}ie 
laurel was not known till after the Phythian games were settled, and when known it 
gave rise to the aforesaid fable of Dapline; and both the tree and leaves being found 
of so extraordinary a make and nature, illustrious victors and men of learning were 
commonly crowned with it. Some again say, that Apollo afl'ected the leaves and 
blossoms of the apple-tree, before he chose the laurel, and therefore the victors in 
running, wrestling, &c. ought to be crowned with that ; as the poet Arcliias in his 
Mythoiog. lib. 5. cap. 4. relates. But Lucianus asserts, that though in tlie Phythian 
games, the garlands of laurel began to prevail, yet they were intermixed with fine yel- 
low apples. Some writers even affirm, that the lam-el of Delphos bore such large ber- 
ries or fruit, as almost to gain the name of apples. But the true reason of this dif- 
ference proceeded from several alterations made both in the prizes and times of hold- 
ing those games ; for originally they were celebrated every ninth year (from the num- 
ber of nymphs feigned by the ancients, to come from Mount Parnassus, to offer to 
Apollo o\\ \\\)i having overcome the J)€/;7/«c monster Python) and afterwards every 

fifth. ' 

^ The Nemcean games were kept in a wood of that name, situate between Philiuns 
and Clconc, two cities of vic/tm, in honour and memory of Archctnorns, otherwise 
called Opheltes son of Lycurgus, on account of his being killed by a serpent in this 
wood. Which accident some relate thus : Oedepus having through mistake married 
his own mother, the widow of Laiuf:, king oiTliches, begat on her two sons, Eteoclcs 
and Polpiice, to whom he resigned the royal dignityV on condition they governed 
bv turns : but Eteorlcs as the eldest, having obtained the first year's administration, 
refused to admit his brother as a partner to govern tiic second year ; who thereupon 
in discontent, solicitijig tiie aid of Admsins, king of Argos, whose daughter, called 
Argia, he married ; (he king, in conjunction with his other son-in-law Tydens, raised 



Of sen Lift'. 217" 

a j^reat army, in order to w;«i»o war with tlic ThtJmns amJ \)x\n^ ihein to reafsoti. Tin- 
issue of this war was tin; <hurh of tho two lirothf rs iti a duel ; and their hodios, ac- 
cording to custom, being laid on a largo pile of wood to be burnt, the flames hap- 
pened to divide and s<^parafo, as if they bore witness of the immortal hatred of the 
two brethren in their life-times, whirh ceased not with tlieir deaths. Now in the 
army which Adrastas sent to Polifvire's as^is-tartce were seven commanders, who 
bring arrived in the island Lcm/ios, pertaining to Thracia, and seized with an extreme 
thirst, uiet//7//>,s//>^/e, carrying in her arms the child O/j^c/Zo, son of Lycurgus, (priest 
of Jnpiler) and Euridice, who being a native of that country, they intreated to 
shew them where to get some wat( r. Whereupon she in ha.ite, yet fearful of layin"- 
the child on the ground, as forbidden by the oracle, before he could walk, set him 
naked on the grass by a bed of wild parsley near a fount tin, wli< re a serpent Ivin"- 
pv^rdue, suddenly wound itself al-.out the child's neck, and throttled him, while she 
was gone to «h"aw waler. The ronunanders, being apprised of this a<cident 
killed the serpent; and, to solace the' father, instituted in honour of his son so sud- 
denly lost the aforesaid games, to be held every third year: wherefore originally 
only soldiers and their descendants were admitted to thon, though in process of 
time they were free for every person. Theagnes, in his Memoirs of ^gina, book 4. 
chap. 13, relates, that Hypsijji/Ie fied from Lemnos to ^emfca, on account of a com- 
bination among the women to kill the men, only out of jealousy, because by the in- 
stigation of Venus, highly incensed against them, they had to do with other women. 
Accordingly they all put their design in practice, except Ili/psipi/le, who endeavour- 
ed to save her father's life by hiding him in a baker's trough. (This happened soon 
after the departure of the Argonauts, and their arrival in Jhis island.) But being 
discovered, they flung him with the trough into the sea, and condemned Hypsipyle to 
die for not agreeing to tl'.eir general resolution. She hearing this made her escape; 
but in her flight, was taken by pirates and sold for a slave to Lycurgus, whose wife 
Euridice, desiring she might be put to death for the misfortune of her child, she hid 
herself in a remote and solitary place; where being discovered by the soothsayer 
Amphiurns, to the two sons of Euridice, Thoas anid Emioenus, who made diligent 
search afler ber, she was, ihrough their intercession, and the commanders testimonv 
of her innocence, pardoned and re-admitted into favour. Others will have it that 
Hercules instituted these games, oji baving killed in the wood Nemaea, a terrible lion, 
who devoured all before him, and laid the country waste. Some say they were set 
up in honour and memory of Archemorns; but that Hercules, after having slain the 
Nemaeanlion, with whose skin he covered his head and body, brought thein under a 
regulation, and dedicated them to Jupiter; appoinlin? their solemnization to be 
every three years, on the r?th"da; of th«> month, called by (he Corintkians Fanemo^ 
VOL. 11. 2 r 



21« ' Of Still Life. 

and by the Atheniajis Boedromios, answering- to our month of August : and the rather, 
as Tlieseus had in that month happily vanquished the Amazons. But others are of 
opinion that it was done in memory of Opiielles, who by his own death presaged the 
fate of the Lacedemonians, at war with the Thebans. Yet some think that this 
was another Opheltes, sou of Euphelas and Creusa, who being laid on the ground 
by his nurse, while she went to shew some commanders a fountain, was killed by a 
serpent. 

The Nema-nn games were therefore instituted in memory and consolation of i^/CJ/r- 
gus, Euridice, and Opheltes, and the judges who determined the prizes were dressed 
in black and mourning garments. For Opheltes was afterwards called Archetnorus, 
because Amphiarus had at his birth presaged him an early and untimely death. 
Archo signifying in (ireek beginning, and M.oros death ; a.s if they said, " dying 
after his birth :" in which sense speaks the poet, 

" Nascentes, morimur, finisque ab origine pendet ;* 

That is, " We begin dying from our births, and our beginnings and ends have an 
inseparable union." 

The exercises in these games were the same as in others : but the victors were 
croMued with green parsley, mostly used in funerals, to perpetuate the memory of 
Archemorns. Whether the Greek Selinon, with us common parsley and the peiroseli- 
non, or stone parsley be the same, let the botanists determine. Originally the victors 
were crowned with garlands of olives; but after the defeat of the ^ledes they began 
to be presented with one of wild parsley, in memory of those who were slain in that 
bloody battle: and, after this regulation, the said herb, instead of crowning the head 
on occasions of joyful meetings, served only in times of sorrow and mourning. For, 
according to the Greek saying, this herb is very earthly, as spreading a long time 
over the ground, and often bearing to be dug up in order to get a deeper root. The 
seed of it also on sowing is longer than others in coming up ; wherefore it was ne- 
cessary, that the mortal Greek Opheltes, afterwards (as we have said) called Arche- 
morus, should be crowned with earthly honour. For of the four principal games 
which we handle in this chapter, two, according to the \ioei Archias, are sacred to 
mortals, and the others to deities : the mortals are Archemorus and Mcliverta, who 
is also called Palcemon; and the gods are Jupiter and Apollo. The wild parsley 
is not without reason appropriated to these games; because some think it sprung 
from the blood of the child, killed by the serpent ; yet this contradicts those who 
say, that Hypsipyle laid the child on this plant ; which therefore was already known 
at that time. We shall now proceed to the Isthmian games. 



Of sail Life. 219 

This solemnity was peifofiiifd ;it iiii^lit in tlie Isthmus of Corinth, parfinc: Morea 
from tlu; contiiifiit of (Greece; and had rntiicr the ficf of a safrilice and its iiiyHterirH 
than of a festival. It was instituted by S i. st/p has, son o( JJLoliis, on his finding thereon 
the ground the dead hody of his kinsman JMelicerta. 

Plutarch writes tliat Theseus, after having killed the bull of Mivos, and perfonnetl 
other great exploits, erected a pillar in the Isthmus of Peloponnesus, where, in imita- 
tion of ITcrcuUs, who consecrated tlie Olympic games Xo Jupiter, he instituterl the 
, Isthmian in honour of Neptune. 

Yet according to Pausanias and others, these games were not set up for that rea- 
son, but in remembrance of iJ/r7/m7a".v dead body found there unbiined : touching; 
which there goes this story: Learchus and Mcliccrta were the sons of Alhamas and 
Ino. Alhamas, made raging mad hyTisiphone at 7mwo"s command, a(tempte«l to kill 
his wife instead of a wild beast, tearing the young Learchus out of her arms, beat 
out his brains against the stones, hio aflVighted hereat, either through sorrow, or the 
inHuenceof 7V.s7)>//f>«<?'s poisoned serpents, betook herself with the other child Meli- 
ccrta to the mountains Geranes, situated between Megara and Corinth. But she 
finally also yielding to rage, cast herself with the child from the rock Moluris into 
the sea; where she was metamorphosed into a sea nyiiiph, and called Leucotha, and 
he into a sea god, under the name of Palcemon. The dead body of Jfe/icerta being 
afterwards brought on shore by a dolphin, Sisyphus, king of Corinth, who was his 
uncle, commanded him to be buried in the Isthmus, and a circus lo be there erected 
for the celebration of the aforesaid games. 

But the poet Aachias says, that Ino's flinging herself with Mcliccrta into the 
sea, a dolphin landed their bodies on the Schccnunliua shore, where Amphimachvs 
and Lonacmns took them up and brought them to Sisyphus, king of Corinth; and 
then they were deified, she by the name of Leucothea, which in Greek signifies the 
white goddess, and he by that of Pala:mon. 

Leucothea, called by the Latins Matuta, is day-break; and Valtemon, or Vortumis, 
the vehemence of storms and billows; for pallein, in Greek, signifies to toss, move, 
and push violently against each other ; whence conies thename of Pal^cjnon : he was 
the son of Matuta, or morning ; because the winds commonly begin to arise with 
day-break. 

Others tell us, that Mclicertas dead body being cast on the shore of the Isthmus, 
and lying unburied, it caused a great plague ; and that, on consulting the oracle, 
touching the cause of the infection, answer w as made, that Melicerta ought to have 
a magnificent funeral, and solenuj races and games should be appointed to his ho- 
nour and memory. The Corinthians obeyed, and the body was accordingly taken 
up by Amphimacus and Donacinus, and in an honourable manner buried in the place 

•2 1 -2 



520 Of Still Life. 

aforesaid ; aud the games and funeral rites being iii.stituted, the phigue ceased ; but 
afterwards it brol<e out afresh on tlieir omitssion of the suleinnity ; M'hen fore, in 
this their utmost distress, the people, re-consulting tiie oracle, were told tiiey must 
for ever celebrate the games they had begun in memory of Meliceila, aud distribute 
the rewards to the victors. But Museus, describing these games, says, that the 
custom was to perforu), every five years, two sorts of games and races in the Jslkmus; 
one in honour of Neptune, near his temple ; antl the other in memory o( 3Jeficeria. 

The prize in the Isthmian games was orginally a crown of parsley, elegantly 
wreathed; but afterwards, a garland of pine-leaves, on account of their neighbour- 
hood and agreement with the sees. Besides these crowns, the victors were usually 
presented on their return with a palm-branch, as Pausanias sajs. Moreover, th« 
conquerors at such times were so much honoured, as to be met by their fellow citi- 
zens, and brought some miles upon their shoulders; they made not their entrance 
through the common gates, like other people, but triumphantly over a stately 
bridge or passage, made over the walls for that purpose, and their nan)es were 
cut on pillars set up in the public places of the town, to perpetuate their men)ories. 

We shall, to conclude this chapter, subjoin a short description of some particular 
garlands or crowns, sacred to the heathenish deities. 

The Phoenicians, as Eusebius te-stilies, honoured and worshipped the herbs and 
plants. The Greeks, in imitation of them, rendered almost the same duties, not only 
to trees, but also to herbs aud flowers : these maintained that the Charities, or 
Three Graces, were the very crowners of Pandora. Pherecydes says, that Saturn 
was cro« ned before any others : yet, according to Diodorus, Jiipiier claims this ho- 
nour for his conrpiest over the giants : but, not to pretermit the Egypliun monu- 
ments, Isis first crowned herself with green sprigs and ears of corn; of which, ac- 
cording to the Egyptian writer, Leon, she was the inventor. 

The oak and its fruit, as Apollodorus writes, Mere sacred to the goddess Rhea, 
otherwise called the earth, that mortals who proceed from it might wear the badges 
of their universal mother: the same tree was also peculiar to Jupiter, the tutelar god. 

The pine and its fruit were consecrated to the goddess Cybele, whom the ancients 
believed to be the mother of all things; because she, carefully containing the seed 
originally given her, does by the warmth of the sun yearly bring forth new shoots. 
The pine-apple in its shape also resembles a rising flame, and keeps its seed in small 
aud separate cells, which by the earth's heat in time springs up and grows. We 
likewise see a certain medal, with the head of Cyhele on one side, and a small gar- 
land of pine-twigs on the other, and inscriljed iiMYPNAiyN, i. e. those of Smyrna. 
The Arcadians, believing Pan to be the god of the universe, dedicated the pine-apple 
to him also. 

Saturn, Jupiter, Apollo, and jEscxdapius, were crowned with laurel; Saturri as the 



Of Still Life. 221 

pod of (riiMiiphs; Jupiter, for liis victory over tlifi giants; Apollo, for tlie Jovr of 
Daplmr, iMClauiorpliosetl into lliat tree : tliuuf;li bi'forf, (l»e iialiii wus .sacrtd to him, 
on his kiliiiiff the Delptdc dra;;^ori : l>nt iEisculapiiis wears it for no oWh-t reason, than 
that it is useful for Kcveral remedies. 

The aiicicrit Ilomniis, on their iiona caproli/ice, or festivals kept monthly, in ho- 
nour of Juno, crowned that goddess with fi?-!eaves, as a memorial of the city of 
Rome, (reduced to the utmost extremity liy the Gauls, who demanded of the senate 
several nohle virj^ins as hostages) regaining its freedom by the contrivance of the 
virgin Philotis, who, showing ttie Itoinans how to slide down from the walls, by the 
brauches of a lin-tree growing thereon, and sacred to Juno, gave them an opportu- 
nity of falling on the enemy when drunk and asleep (which she had cunningly in- 
ticed tlicni to), and by a great slaughter, to obtain a complete victory o\er them. 
The pomegranate was consecrated to Juno, by the people of Mycena. The white 
lily is also sacred to her, and therefore called i'los J u nonius, or, according to some, 
Jlos regalis ; not so much out of respect to the queen or goddess, but because that 
flower almost surpasses all others in height. 

Minerva, who is said to be a virgin, rightfully laid claim to the olive-tree, which 
affects purity and chastity, as well as she. 

I find no trees particularly sacred to Mars; but it is notorious that the herb 
commonly called dog's grass is appropriated to him. 

They who are conversant witli poets, know that the myrtle tree signifies delight, 
and a mind richly endowed. The ancients say that tree surpasses all others in 
tender and beautiful leaves, and their continual greenness and smell, which recom- 
mends it to Venus, the most beautiful, most tender, and most perfect of the god- 
desses. In old times, men on festival days used to put into each others hands 
branches of this tree as tokens of joy, and that they should join in chorus : and 
Horace says that in Lent-time, when the earth, by her variety of flowers, seems to 
rejoice, we ought to adorn our heads with wreaths of myrtle. The apple-tree sig- 
nifying love, is also sacred to Verms; and the ears of corn to Ceres. 

The ivy, dedicated to Jiaccltus, was in great esteem among the Egyptians for being 
always green and not shedding its leaves till after harvest: they mostly used it in 
garlands, and the kind-bearing blackberries was especially consecrated to Bacchus^ 
who by that peo[)le is ealled Osiris, and from whence this green also borrows its 
name; for they call it C/ieuosiris, i.e. tlie plant of Osiris: and Dionysius, which is 
also the name of liacehus, having carried his victories into India, built there ^ysa, 
a large town, and planted it round w ith ivy to perpetuate his memory : this plant 
is sacred to Hacchus, either because he as well as Phoebus is always represented 
youthful ; or, that the tongue and spirits of father Liber are tied up, as the ivy 



222 Of Still Life. 

catches liol«l of any thing that it comes at : for thongli Horace says, " that the 
dinukanl is in his cnps free from all care, even the greatest poverty," yet it is as 
true, tiiat the litpior captivates the senses, taking away all power of judging. The 
same plant is likewise an emblem of age, not only for its growing mostly near old 
trees, buildings, and ruins, but also as wine which is old and worked oft' is highly 
esteemed : wherefore Pindarus, as well as Horace, mostly extols it. The vine 
was also sacred to Bacchvs ; accordingly, he is often represented crowned with 
the twigs thereof : though after his conquest of /?/rf/a he likewise wore laurel; for 
he, as well as Satur7i, is accounted the god of triumphs. Tiie vine M'as also pecu- 
liar to li/ica ; and the crown of its twigs, which adorns the head of Hecate, implies 
only the subtiltios and snares wliich father lumnus, by the operations of wine (lead- 
ing men to extravagance) laid for his daughter. 

The cypress is sacred to Pluto, god of hell, and of the sprigs and leaves of it the 
ancients made garlands. It is reckoned a mouniful tree, and proper for phtces of 
burial ; because, when once cut, it shoots no more. Its branches, set in the ground 
near tombs, or carved on them, signify that the deceased endeavoured by prayers 
to be reconciled to the infernal gods : wherefore Horace says, " Men are attended 
to hell by no other tree than the unhappy and hateful cypress. Fluto's crown is also 
composed of the herb adianthum, otherwise called capilli veneris. Some have 
crowned him with Narcissus flowers and their leaves ; a flower proper for deceased 
persons, on account of the unhappy end of the youth who was transformed into 
it : wherefore Vliurnntus says, that the hellish furies, Alecto, Tisiphone, and Megeera, 
had garlands of the same flow ers about their heads, as servants and executioners of 
the commands of Pluto. The pine tree has much agreement with the cypress, it 
being also the emblem of death ; for, when once cut, like the cypress, it never shoots 
out again ; wherefore, and for its bitterness and sharpness, the pine-apple, both in 
ancient and niodern acceptation, signifies death. 

The double-coloured poplar was sacred to Herades; because naturalists, by this 
hero and the tw'o colours of that tree, imply the two difierent times which super- 
intend and govern all things ; for one of the colours being white, signifies the day, 
and the other which is dark, the night. Some have also ranked the poplar in the 
nunjber of unhaj)py trees; for, in tlie isle of lihudes, the funeral games in honour 
of 77r^>io/r»?Mi' were celebrated, and the performers of them crowned with it. 

The peach-tree was sacred to Isis and to Harpocrates; the plane-tree to the Ge- 
nii ; and a garland of flowers to Ariadne. The bacchanals, in celebrating the vine- 
feast of Bucclms, were coifed w ith greens. 

If the curious reader desires further information in this point, he may consult the 
hi.'storieK of C7rtKrf/H5 (Sa<zf;«/wM5, wherein he will find the origin, causes, qualities, 



Of Still Li/t. ii'23 

and every thing else reluting thereto, in such niaiiner as toobHerve, that there are no 
beautiful flowers, green branches, routs, 6cc. but what are peculiar to the head of 
some person or other. 



CHAP. VII. 

OF THE MILITARY DRESSES AND ARMS OF SEVERAL NATIONS, PAR- 
TICULARLY OF THE GREEKS AND ROMANS. 

J. HE distinction of nations cannot be well represented without due regard to their 
warlike accoutrements, dresses, and manners. It is certain, that many paint«rs 
have been herein very deficient, as appears by their works, who, on better considera- 
tion and greater experience, have afterwards corrected their errors. But I mean not, 
by exposing the mistakes of other men, to palliate my own : I have had my faults 
as well, and perhaps greater than they : I am sensible, that even in my very best 
time, I was not free from some great blunders, which to this day I am concerned 
for, and which, though I might conceal, I nevertheless lay open in the course of this 
work: and, since I am speaking of mistakes, I shall here observe some, as necessary 
to this chapter. 

Testa, in a print of the dragging of Meclors body, represents Achilles, though 
a Greek, with a Roman head-piece, which he possibly did to keep the light together 
and to preserve the face : he also exhibits both these heroes naked, and Achilles 
without arms ; the sword in his hand makes him look more like a gladiator than 
a general, and the scabbard by his side has no tie or girdle about his body. How 
can he use the sword, when with one hand he holds the reins of the horses ? These 
things are very improper and unnatural : but perhaps his inducement was, that he 
might shew the beautiful body of the hero with greater advantage. In the last place 
the town walls appear so low as to be easily reached over. 

Poussin likewise, in the print of the death of Germanicus, has intermixed Greek 
with Roman helmets. Let it not bethought, that we are unjust to the merits of 
such great masters, by so nice an examen of their performances, since my purpose 
herein is only by shewing other men's faults to correct our own. But I am as will- 
ing to shew mine, as they occur to my memory: witness my Mneas receiving the 
arms of Venus, where I have also made a Roman helmet: and my father, in his re- 
presentation of Seneca, introduces one of Nero* captains standing by him, with a 
Greek head-piece. Now, art allows not such liberties either in military furniture or 
any thing else. Each nation has its particular dress, manners, and customs. How 
can we exhibit an Egptian prospect, without shewing some tokens of that country ? 



224 Of Still Life. 

as palm-trees, pyramids, and people dressed in iheEgyptiaii mode? Wherefore let 
me recoimneml care to every person, and tliat they do not build too much on otl»er 
mens works. It is belter to be nice than negligent. Let us understand a thing 
never so well we may yet err through haste and careUssness. 

Thinking it presumptuous toeuumerate all the particulars of the military order of 
the'ancients, as being- largely handleil by several authors: we shall llurefore, ac- 
cording to our small ability, and for the service of curious artists, only touch briefly 
on some of the principal matters relating to their arms, believing the residue will 
follow in the course of their practice. I shall begin with the Greeks. 

The Greek foot were divided into two sorts, pikemen or heavy armed, and archers 
or light armed. The pikemen used a buckler, a sort of boots, a pike twenty or 
twenty-four feet in length, and a sword : the stoutest had for defence a Macedonian 
round shield of four feet diameter. The archers bore bucklers of wicki r, bows, 
short pikes and slings: they wore long hair and beards, and helmets or head-pieces 
somewhat projecting over the face, handsomely wrought with imagery or foliage, set 
off with plumes and other elegant ornaments : their military dresses always excelled 
in variety and elegance : their coals of armour reached down to the knees, cut out 
on the shoulders and below, into straps which were often adorned with lions heads : 
some instead of straps had twisted fringes. The generals and nobility wore buskins 
of young lions or tigers-skins : or else neat sandals : but the inferior sort had plain 
sandals with strings : their swords hung by their left side by a small hook on the 
girdle, and on their right side was a dagger. 

In the Roman military order, the young men between seventeen and twenty live 
years of age were appointed for velites, or swift footmen, or light-armed ; the hastati, 
for darters or pikemen: such as were in thdr prime, for principes ; and the aged, 
for triarii. 

The velites wore a small buckler of a foot and a half long, an head-piece, a 
sword and a lance three feet long, and a tl.umb thick, armed with a siiarp triangu- 
lar pointed steel or head, of a foot in length ; some carried strings, others bows. 

The hastati and principes wore a short coat of armour, that they might be the 
litter for march and the management of all sorts of arms; they had long breeches, 
reaching half-way the legs, and close at the knees, and helmet, and ,a large oval 
buckler two feet and a half in the transverse, and four or five feet in the conjugate 
diameter: they were girt, with swords on both sides; that on the left n!ue!i longer 
than the other, which, like a dagger, was but a span long. Their other weapons 
were, two darts or w ooden staves ; one thin like an arrow, and three cubits long, 
and headed with iron : and the other of the same length, anil us thick as the breadth 
if thr- hand, witit a pointed iroi^ head as long as the staff, and let half-way into the 



Of sun TAfe. 'i:J.O 

wood, and l)os«.-t wifli liooks: tliis iron next tlie woo<l was a fingrr an<l a liah' in 
thickness. 

Tlio Iriarii boro (he smiir arms as (he principes, except that instead of llie darts 
Iheyuscd jiikt's, forme riy carritd by th«! haslali, (and from whence they took their 
name) who left tlicm for the darts. The rieiiest armed themselves with commodious 
body-coats instead of breast-pieces. Tlie Romans generally wore short hair, with 
shavcul chins, but the hair growing on eacli side of their cliceks : yet we must ob- 
serve, that Scipio was the only person among tlieni who had long hair. The Roman 
helmets closing with the forehead, wer<; made eitiier of <louble leather, iron or brasH, 
and creste<l on top, like the Greeks, but less sumptuous ; except those of the gene- 
rals and other commanders, which were plumed. Some also had winged helmets, 
and on the crest a snake or dragon or an eagle's head. 

We fnul likewise that the ancient Romans, in their marches, carried a saw, a 
basket, a spade, an axe, a bridle, a sickle, and provisions for three days. The Iler- 
culani of the old troops, and the Joviniani, or according to Vegetitis, Joviani, were 
two select Roma?i legions, consisting of six thou.sand men each, and serving in 
Selavoiiia, to whom the limperor Diochtiauns, who caused himself to hv styled 
Jj//>i7er, and Maxhninia7ius Heiculcs, after they had gained him the imperial <liguity, 
gave that name in preference to all other legions for their valour. These, besides 
their large swords and oblong shields, had darts, the in.sides whereof were run with 
lead, and called Manorbarbiili, which for their heaviness forwards they could cast 
with such force and certainty, that, before they used arrows and swords, they so 
galled the enemy and their horses, as to gain the emperors several great battles. 

The Roman horse wore a helmet and breast-piece like the foot, had a cross- 
shield by the horses side, a long sword on their right side, a javelin in their haud<, 
and in their quivers three or more arrows broad-ironed, yet sharp pointed, and not 
inferior to the javelins. The ensigns, both of foot and horse, wore lions skins over 
their military dresses, and the trumpets the same, save that the two fore-paws of 
the skins were by these latter tied under their chins, serving them also for cloaks. 
The.se skins were not merely flayed with the hair on, but also fitted for service, and 
wnderneath either fringed or elegantly cut out. 

The Numidians and Cretians under Roman command and aiding them on horse- 
back, as need required, were armed with bows and arrows, and also with slings, 
wherewith they dexterously flung stones. Vliny writes, that even the scorpio, (a 
machine of war) with which anciently they used to throw large stones and timbers, 
was the invention of the Cretians. 

The Liguriaiis, who for a long time valiantly kept the Ronuuis at bay, were w ell 

VOL, II. 2 G 



•226 Of sail Life. 

(lisfiplined sokUors ; arniod uith a breast piece, :i luhiu-t, a thield, and in a close 
tiress. They were also very expert in tlirou ini; llie javelin. 

The Sci/thia/ts, a barbarous people and horsemen, uore crested helmets pointed 
on top : they carried bows, dagj^ers, and battle axes. 

The iSct/f/nau women, called yl/Hf/ro?/*-, oftentimes a])pcared in a combat, as Viu- 
centivs says, in antique siher lielmets and breast-pieces, because their country 
abounded \vith that metal. But, according to the anc ient memoirs, their military 
dresses were only adorned with serpents skins wronglit in silver. They had the 
left breast bare, but the right, which was scared, that tliey might with greater easi; 
use the bow and cast the dart, covered like tiie rest of tluir bodies. Their garment 
buttoned below, reached not quite to their knees. Their defence was a target or 
large round shield cut hollow at one of the entren)ities into the form of two conjoin- 
ed crescents, having apart in the middle for covering and guarding the arm and hand. 
One of these cuts served for managing the lance, and the other to look through. 
They likewise carried axes and hanuners. 

The Cot/is, together with the great Aliila, descended from the Scythian^, wei'e 
armed with bows, arrows, long and strong sjjears or lances, shields, and helmets. 
The horsemen full armoured and carrying strong lances, hammers, and clubs, would 
leap on their hor.ses without the help of the stirrup or other advantage, especially on 
smooth ice, or on snowy ground, where they generally fought their greatest battles. 
Sometimes, as need rec(uired, and in the heat of battle they would in full gallop 
throw themselves on another horse, turning and winding with incredible swiftness, 
even catching up a lance from the ground, &c. An evidence what great warrions 
these people formerly were. 

The Persians and Spartans M'erc very much alike in dress, except in their head 
ornaments. The former wore turbans, and the latter caps like a nigiit-cap, yet 
pointed on top and curling forwards ; or else iron head-pieees, like the Romans, but 
plain and without a crest. They had long hair, and their beards almost hid their 

"ears. On the other hand, the Per.v/««.« shaved both their head and face. Their vest- 
ment, girt about the middle, reached below the knees: they wore also long open 
breeches and wide stockings and shoes. They used scaled arms, round shields, 

-greaves or shin-armour, scimitars hung on the right thigh, cross the body, and the 
dagger on the sameside, but at the girdle. At their back was the «|ui\er. 

iJarius, the last king of i^eisia, was commonly arrayed in a rich purj)Ie mantle in- 
termixed with white stripes, fastened '6tt each shonldef with precious stones, and 
before with a gold chain or hook. His coat of armour,^ wi\iught with gold, was em- 
broidered on the breast' with tiireo golden eagles, having spread wings and tails 
and bills turning towards each other, and between the v\ ings and tails Avere seen the 



Of Still Liff. 227 

followinskttois, NIKIiriKOTATOM, sij,niiryiii<i:, Always f'oiunioror. At liisgoidrri 
!:,ir(llr, <;ii( loos«ly and woiiiaiiisli, hung a scimitar, tlie scabliard Mlifix-of was Ijcsct 
M'illi precious stones. 

'J'Ik; DdciunH wore gowns lianj;ing <lo-\vn to the lieils and open on tlx; sides, and 
over tlieni a coat of mail which reached to theimiddlc. Their liohnets sat close 
al)oiit the head, and ran up to a jioint. Their arms were hows and arrows, «Iag(rer, 
and javelins; and their liorses wholly guarded, except the eyes, with scaled 
coverings. 

The Pnrlhians, Males, and Assi/riims Mcrc guarded like the Persians, save that 
the Parffiians wore long coats of mail, covering both man and horse, and the Axit/- 
rians brass head-pieces. 

The Phrif^iaiis and Armediaus used helmets, short spears, javeliiis, and dagger, 
wearing wide stockings and .shoes like the Pc/vj/aw*. "rm 'j/i.d oJ imtlM ^.u\\f 

The Carthaginians were as elegant and magnificent in arms astli'e Versians. 

The Macedonians and their neighbours diflered little in their dress and arms from 
the Greeks. And, 

The Romans and Trojans the same. 

The Lacedemonians first began to carry a shield, sword, and axe. 

The pcoj)le of Caria were the first who served for pay, carried shields, bore ar- 
mour, and had plumes or feathers on their helmets. 

The Thracians wore head-pieces of fox skins, coats of armour, party coloured 
dresses, and stockings of skins. Their weapons were darts, round shields, and 
daggers. 

The JEthiopean horse were guarded with an helmet, coat of armour reaching half 
way the thighs, powdered, with iron eyes, and proof against cuts and pushes. Their 
arms were a round shield, a lance, a scimitar, and clubs plated with iron. Those 
who had no helmets wore long and hairy or woolly red caps, like the Ma^naliikes in 
Egypt. The foot, to strike terror in their enemies, wore skins of lions, tigers, 
leopards, and other wild beasts; and had for weapons large bows, pikes, arrows, 
and slings. The emperor himself wore a costly silver diadem about bis head, and 
carried in his hand a silver crucifix. He was dressed in gold staff full plaited over 
a silk shirt with large ducal sleeves, and from his middle hung a loo.se garment of 
silk and gold stuff. His body guards, covering their heads and sTioulders with 
beasts skins, carried a sword, a dagger, and a javelin. 

The Indians were clothed in wood, 'and had bows of reeds, and arrows a yard 
and a halflong tipped with iron. ' "' "''^" *' *^ <• 

The Arabians wore girt cb'ats, and'tised crooked but handy bows. 

The Lyhians were dressed in leath^f, and ttad'1?ui'n{ jaVelius.'- 

2 G 2 



228 Of SfUl Xi/Vj.^ 

.The Esfi/ptiuns bore a shield and broad sword. 

The inhabitants of JBalvares, wow 3IaJoica, Minorca, &c. had slings. 

The JEtolums, lances ami javelins. 

The SuUzers from atuient times we^re good soldiers, as appears by their contests' 
with Julius CeFsar, used large and long shields for defence. Their arms were strong 
spears, pikes, and clubs. 

The Gauh carried large shields and long swords. 

The people of the territory of Ahruzzo, anciently called Samnites, were good 
horsemen and darters. 

The inhabitants of Marchia Anconilana, anciently styled by the Romans Ager 
Vicetnis, or country of wood-peckers, were likewise good soldiers, and bore a shield, 
a pike, a helmet, and sword. 

Thus I think to have made some provision for further enquiry, that artists may 
not be at a loss. He who wants more information can read Virgil, Ammianus Mur- 
cdlinus, Vegetius Volyhius, and Herodotus Hallicarnassus ; which last, in the life of 
Xerxes, lays down all the particulars relating to each people and all sorts of barba- 
rians. Vitruvins also has written a treatise of the Roman military exercise. 

Homer in his Iliad speaking of sights wherein some had gold, brass, and steel ar- 
mour says, " he pushed him in the belly, but pierced not his armour." And in ano- 
ther passage, " hedealthim such a blow on his steel breast, as to make it strike fire 
and resound.'' Now if it be asked what sort of armour this must have been, of 
massy gold and other metal : and whether it could be possible for any person to 
move, bend, and turn, in such armour as shewed the muscles and limbs sat close to 
the body ? I answer, they could not, and that the notion of their liaving been thus is 
•wrong. 1 think those are also out of the way, w ho suppose they are so represented 
for the sake of decorum, and that this is reason enough, without considering whether 
it be possible or not ; since other reasons may be assigned, which can give better 
satisfaction without forcing nature. For my part, I believe that the arras and their 
use were anciently as now, and the coats of armour were like our buff coats, made 
of leather. They may possibly have been so contrived as to shew the muscling; 
but granting it, they must be much fitter for use than if of steel or solid gold. Where- 
fore I cannot but think they were made of leather, and of all sorts of colours, 
wrought or embroidered with silver or gold, even covered over with gold like our 
gilt leather, and set off with scales, foliage, and other such ornaments. I remember 
to have read in my youth, in a certain ancient Latin treatise yet extant, dedicated to 
the emperors Tkeodosius and Valentinian, and entitled, " The great Number of the 
Roinayi Forces," that the Roman armours, breast-pieces, or military coats (as there 
tailed) were lined with wool, and covered with the skins of wolves, lions, and othet 



Of .Still Lift. :29 

wild |j(!is(.s (tf JAhi/a. iVcvertheless, to support the opiuiou c>f thr poets, I add, that 
they had gold, brass, and sleei breast and belly pieces fastened with small hookn 
and ])uc]vles on the shoiddors and &idrp, to ward ofT blows; Imt they were plain 
without Miu.scling, and not put on but in times of preparation for battle. Wherefore 
they are much to blame wlio introduce such accoutrements on every occasion; as 
for instance^ Scipio in his tent wilii the young bride, and sitting in full armour; or 
Alexander with lloxana; Rinaldo courting Armida ; and otlier such occurrences. 



CHAP. VIII. 

OF TUF, ORIGIN OF TUT. SEVF.RAL EXSIGNS AND SHir.I.D.S AND TITF.ir 
DEVICES, FOR DISTINCTION OF NATIONS AND PARTICULAR PER- 
SONS. 

J T being in painfing absolutely necessary, first to distinguish the natfons, and next 
the personages among them of higher and lesser degree, by tokens either devised by 
themselves, or appropriated by others, I think proper to handle this point largely, 
in order to shew the greatness of the Roman power, and the many foreign troops 
entertained in their service : I say both painters and- statuaries, especially the lat- 
ter, ought to be acquainted with these things, that in representing either a particular 
nation or hero, they may, on their shields, exhibit the proper badges of distinction, 
whereby to be presently known by persons conversant in antiquities. This know- 
ledge is as necessary for history painters, since histories frequently make mention of 
a congress of several nations and their heroes in one place,^ without describing their 
arms and banners; a point which cost me much trouble to gain, but proved of great- 
er advantage in the uses I made thereof, and which 1 introduce here as having some 
relation to the preceding chapter. 

On consulting histories, I iind the ancients, instead of banners, made use of a bun- 
dle of arrows or boughs and greens tied together, which they called manipulus, or a 
handful, and the ensign bearers, manipularii. Titiis Livius, the nice Roman histo- 
rian and antiquary, tells us that Romulus, havhig by accident appeased a tumult 
with few people, from that time represented it in the ensigns and arms by a wisp of 
hay; causing this token, as a happy one, to be borne before him in the ensuing wars. 
The i?om«?i5 afterwards painted on their ensigns and standards small red flames, in 
token of success ; as in the battle with the Sabi7i£s near Eretum, where the arms of 
the former appeared by night as if on fire, without being damaged. Thus the stand- 
ards and ensigns of the legions, by the sight whereof the soldiers knew the wills of 
their generals, were from time to time augmented. They had also at difl'erent times 



230 Of Still Life. 

di\ers other lokt'iis ; as open light lian()s, the iinnqo of tlitir emperors in silver, or 
gold, or gilt, aiul sometimes there hung under them a small pendant, liaving the 
general or people's motto, S. P. Q. R. They likewise bore in tiieir banners the 
re])rcsentation of wolves, minotaurs, wild l)oars, horses, bulls, and dragons, till at 
last they fixed on the eagle for the chief field standard. The Romans used the 
wolf, minotaur, wild boar, horse, bujl, and dragon, for the following reasons: — the 
V olf, partly as he v/as sacred to 3Iars the god of war, and partly because his pene- 
tration is so great, that lie can see as well by night as by day ; whereby they meant 
that a prudent general ongiit always to be on his guard, so as not to be surprised 
by the stratagems of the enemy. By the minotaur, says Vegetius, they signified, 
that as tl>is beast kept himself in the most hidden part of the labyrinth, so the de- 
signs of a^encral onght to be kept secret. The wild Itoar, because no peace or ces- 
sation of arms was made without it: vide .^ur i)th Book, treating of the oflerings. 
The horse, as being of great account among the Romans, and the proper sign of war. 
The bull, because the ancient Romans pretended that the word Italia was derived 
fi'om ludo, which now-a-days signifies a calf or bull. The dragon they commonly 
painted ou the banners of the foot, and each century had one; whence the bearer of 
ii, according to Vegelius, was called dragonarius. Ammiamis Mcrcellinvs tells us 
the manner of carrying of it. " They tied," says he, " to the tops of their gilt pikes, 
which. were gold fringed and beset with pearls and precious stones, dragons made of 
woven stufl' and hollow within, A\liicli, on being advanced in the air, opened their 
frightful mouths, and made ii grumliling noise full of wrath and fury, bending and 
moving their tails with the wind." Of which Claudianus speaks ; " Jit ccssante venlo 
•nudli tauecre dracoues,' i. e. The dragons were all silent when the wind abated. 
This ensign, according to Anwiiautis aforesaid, was of a reddish purple. The eagle, 
surpassing aJl other birds in courage and boldness, is not improperly called the Ro- 
man eagle; for to what corner of the known world has he not extended the Roman 
dominion? What resisting nation has not felt the effect of their deliberations, and 
the valour wherewith they put them in execution ? And yet I know from history, 
that the eagle was in use long^ before among the Persians ; for Cyrus, the founder of 
that monaiHiby,' bore,. according to Xenophon, a golden eagle with spread wings on a 
long pike, as if he would fly over the universe : which custom his successors retained 
as a royal token. : By a consent of the soothsayers, all nations anciently ascribed tothis 
bird the honour of believing he prognosticated good luck and happy success in any 
undertakings. In which s,e\\(iO Juslinus tells us that Hicro when young, who was of 
mean birth on his mother s«ide, making his first campaign, an eagle Hew down and 
f>at on his shield ; which was judged as a presage of his becoming in time an excel- 
lejit general a«tl a king, aft. afterwards came to pass. The jioets even say that this 



(tf sail Jjj'c. 231 

hird Iniplirs [)rosjjoiity assigned (o any person I »y disinc Provideu* <•. This opinion 
owes its ristjto the rehilion ol' An(icrc(ni,l\w first writer of i»iiti<|nili<s, iU-.ii JujjiUr 
iiilending- to destroy the giants who tlircateried to stonn heaven, tlie poweis <>( which 
h(; olferrd to, Mas, hy an aeei<hiil:d llii;ht of an eagU', ahsnied of a luqipy and .suc- 
cessful victory ; wliich afterwards ohlaining, he; always bore a golden eaijif in hiu 
jirinsiind l>anners, as a perpetual nieuiorial lher(;of. Vi'om J u/jiter Iha Crcliunn as- 
sumed tiial iiird, and from tlxin the Cavdiols. J^iims the Trojan iutrodured hiiii 
among \.\u- Li(fins; and from tlieni the Jlommis, in proi-e^^ of time, came -louse him 
for their arms ; fhon:;li Lipsiiis is of opinion, tliey assumed him after the example of 
the Pcisians. 'J'hc Tuscans, beaten by the Honiaus in their last conllict near the city 
oi Ereiuin, on the borders of the Sabiiies, presented Turfjuiuiiis Priscus, king of the 
liomiDis, their king's regalia ; to wit, a gold crown, a jairple jiarnunt, and mantle of 
various colours ; also an ivory chair, and an ivory sceptre wilh an eagle on top, 
which he and his successors always bore. After the banishment of the kings, the 
senate took the eagles from their sceptres, and set them on their pikes, exalting him 
above all their other arms, whether the wolf, minotaur, horse, wild boar, ice. Miv- 
rius, when a child, hap|)<niu;;- to lind an eagle's nest with seven young, a presage of 
his two consulats, often placed the said number in his arms ; and in his second cou- 
siilat assigned the eagle to the Roman legions, using him only in battles in order to 
8])irit the soldiers and assure them of victory. The other military tokens were set 
on the tints, but Blarius took them down; and from that time no legion was without 
two eagles. But Josephus, in his Fourth Book, gives each legion one eagle ; and 
by the number of eagles they counted their legions; ns Hirtius says, ihAi Powj>ej/'s 
army consisted of thirteen eagles. Dio?i also assigns each legion an eagle. This 
eagle stood with extended wings, on a pilum or staff, which, according to Vegetius, 
was live feet and a half in length, armed w ith a sharp triangular iron of nine ounces. 
The bearers of it they called aquilifere. These eagles were but suiall, and of silver, 
and many had the thunder in their talons. The Romans first used silver eagles, as 
<lid also Ihiitiis; because silver is the brightest metal and most like the day, and 
therefore most proper for a military token : but afterwards they made them of 
gold, as more stately and surpassing tlie silver. The Romans first used silver tokens 
as being originally frugal and saving ; but at length they yielded to none, even not to 
the Po'sians, in luxury, pomp, and show. 

Julius Cd'sar so highly prized the Batavians, in Roman pay, that he made them 
his body-guards; intrusting them likewise, in the sharpest engagements, with the 
carHageof the first and chief standards of the Roman eagles. 

The Ilercukans of the old troops, mentioned in the preceding chapter, bear 



23C Of Still Life. 

on their ensign a bine eagle with spread wings, in a silver field cornered with 
gold. 

The yonug Ilcrruleans carried in their standards a golden eagle sitting on a. stem 
of a tree, in a blue field bordered with gold. 

The new Jovinians had in their ensigns a golden eagle, with a diadem or royal 
fillet about the head. This eagle was neither black or brown, in a gold field, and 
the wings were set ofl' with red and blue, and had a small gold shield on his breasl. 
But those of the old troops carried a purple eagle adorned with red and gold in u 
"blue field. 

The legions called quarlodecimani, stationed in Thracia for the defence of these 
countries, bear a pale blue eagle, sitting on a globe of bright and deep blue, in a sil- 
ver field bordered and centred w ith gold. 

The divitenses, a legion of the Gauls, carried an eagle of faint scarlet, and a gold- 
en bull in a silver field. 

The Tliebatis also bear an eagle. 

The banner of the first company of life guards of the emperor Theodosius, com- 
manded by a colonel of the foot, had the figure of a half man with extended 
arms, holding in the right hand a rope, and in the left a hat ; thereby inti- 
mating, that the stubborn and rebellious should be chastised, and the obedient made 
free. 

In the Second banner was a golden bull on the jut of a red hill, with a 3Ioor or 
black down to the middle, holding a piece of thick rope in the right hand, antl a 
cap or hat in the left ; shewing that they might make prisoners and .slaves, and set 
men at liberty. 

The Thracians carried the idol Mars in their standards. 

The people of Smyrna the image of Fortune. And, 

The Corinthians, a Neptune, or the horse Pegasus. 

The regiment called the Old Argiviof the East, commanded by the general of the 
foot, had two leaping horses of gold, in a blue field. 

The regiment of foot called the second of T/icodosus, first established in his reign, 
■carried in its ensigns a golden horse in a red field bordered w ith gold. 

Anotlier foot legion, set up in the Emperor Conslans" time, whence it was called 
Constantia, had also a golden horse in a sky blue field, and above him, in the mid- 
dle, a red globe, against which he was rearing and throwing himself out with all his 
might. 

The Athenians, Cephalenians, Thessalians, and Syracusans, also carried a horse. 

The Gauls and Saxons had a lion, and the latter sometimes a iiorse. 



Of Sim Life. US 

Tlie Chnhrmns bear a Lull, nlioise (igurc cast they iikewpie carri«(i on a lance at 
the iicjid of (lirir iirniics. 

Tlio AnneH-iuns csxrYwA a ram, or a crowiipcj lion. 

The Cissians had also a lion. 

The Asiatics, a large whale gui(l»,'(l Ly a child, sitting astride on iiis haok. 
And, 

■^I'lie Golhs, a she hear. 

The banner of the Sabii had two half wolves rearing np against each other, .uid 
fixing their eyes on a rose which was over their heads, in a gold field iiordered with 
purple. It is no wonder these people bla/oned the wolf, seeing they claimed Mms 
as their prolector. 

The regiment of foot called Juviauum, w hich had the fifth post of honour among 
the Romans, Ijear, in the emperor Diocletiafius's time, a red hog sitting upright on 
its hinder parts, in a blue field bordered with gold : and, for this reason, the poets 
have feigned that Jiquler when a child and lying in the wood was nursed by a sow ; 
and this regiment, having the name of /My;j7cr, it therefore carried the hog in its 
standards, in memory of the occurrence. 

The foot regiment of guards, established by the Emperor Honorius, bears-two demi- 
red hogs rearing against each other, in a silver shield and gold field. 

The Trojans likewise carried a hog in a gold field. 

The Phrygians hdid also a hog. 

The regiment called Tertiodecimani, had a leaping blue dog, in a silver f5eld 
centred with gold, and bordered with dark blue. 

From the time of Coiistanlinc the Great down to those of Theodosuis, Houorius, 
and several successive emperors, the Rmnan'^i had a foot regiment called Menapii, 
■whose device was a leaping red dog, in a silver field, centred with a small gold shield, 
and under it another dog lying on his back and flinging up his legs. This body was 
in high esteem for the honour it gained in vanquishing the Tltraciuns. 

The Cytiopolilans bear Anuhis in the shape of a dog. 

The Cortoncnses devised a silver dragon, in a red field ; on the sides were two 
rings, that on the left of a very deep red, and the other of silver. 

The Lacedemonians had the Greek letter A, or a dragon. 

The Indians bear the image of Hercules ; but their horse, according to Suidas, 
carried dragons. 

The Nervii, being the body-bowmen of the emperors, had for device two demi- 
caducei or wands twined with serpents, in a purple field bordered with gold and 
red. In the centre of the shield was a gold ring on a small gold column, round 

VOL. II. 2 H 



234 Of Still Life. 

which the aforesaid serpents winding, their upper parts making a semi-circle, and 
their heads regarding each other. 

The SogHultuus had for device two red serpents ; and, as Ammianus says, of 
purple, crossing eacii other, like the Greek letter X, in a sky-blue Held bordered 
with red. 

The company of Sicnians, serving under the general of the foot in Sclavonia, 
bear in their banners a deep blue serpent with a bent tail towards the ground, 
with a man's head looking backwards, in a blue silver-like field bordered with 
gold. 

The Marcoinani had a gold demi-serpent in a silver field, and between the head 
and the under part was a gold half moon. 

The Curictns bare a gold serpent coiled uj), in a grey field bordered with silver and 
blue checkers. 

The legion of foot, called the sixth Parthian, serving in the East, had, for de- 
vice, a yellow caduceus, or Mercury's wand, in a blue field edged with purple and 
silver. 

The legion of the Augrivarii, carried a red staff topped with a round ball, out of 
which issued two serpents, bending to the middle of the shield as if kissing each 
other, in a pale blue field, with a double edging of purple and gold. 

Among the ancient legions was a regiment called Valen/iani, established by the 
Emperor Valefison his waging war with the Thracians: these carried in their stand- 
ards a small red column and two half moons of the same colour, over two golden 
hares jumping against each other in a silver field. 

The Libyans had three hares. 

The ensign of the Roman legion, called Augusta, was an exact red cat, set 
off with gold, in a silver field, and turning her head sideways, as if going back- 
wards. 

The Apini had a blue cat walking upright, in a crimson field, set off with gold. 

The ancient Almii, JBugundioucs and Suevi, also carried a cat; thereby intimat- 
ing, that they could bear the yoke of servitude with as little stomach as the cat 
cared to be locked up. 

The Egyptians carried a crocodile, or else a cat. 

Not long before the decay of the Roman monarchy, they had a legion in pay, 
called Cornuti, whose device was a red falcon in a gold field, set off with blue and 
red. 

The iidiabitants of Peloponnesus bear a tortoise. 

The liaotians, a sphinx. 

The Locrenses. a locust. And 



Of Still Life. a35 

Thn Assyrians, in momoiy of Semirami, a dove. 

Tho Arcadians, who .set iij* for the most ancient peoj>lo in the woj Id, and U> bn 
co-oval Avitli thi.' inoon, tln.nforc rarricd tho moon in their ciisi^n.s ; and sometimes 
the god Pan, wlio is tho enibloni of liie whole earth. 

The Par //taws- had a broa<l sword or scimitar in thi; iinnd of a winged arn». 

The Greeks commonly iiad two crowns. 

Tlic JMedes, thiee crowns. 

The Macedonians, Ilerculcsn club between two horns.] 

The Cappadocians, a cnp. 

The Scylldans, a thunder. And 

The Pluvniciaus, a sun and moon. 

The ensign of the foot, called hraccitlijuniores, an illustrious title among the an- 
cient Romans, was of a dark blue colour, having a star with eight points in the up- 
per i>art, and in the mitldle a circle embellished with gold. 

The TrevHenses bear a triflent. 

The imperial standard of the emperor Theodosius had a cross, in which sign he 
put all his confidence. 

Constantine, in the battle with Maxentius, had for his banner a long staff having 
on top a cross-piece, both plated with gold, and above, a crown, beset with precious 
stones, on which were engraved the two first letters of the name of Christ in Greek, 
to wit, a P in the middle of an X ; a name he likewise bore on his helmet : to the 
aforesaid cross-piece hung a pendant, embroidered w ith gold and pearls ; luider the 
aforesaid name and the standard of the cross, he obtained a glorious victory over the 
tyrant Maxentius. 

Luciauns writes, that the Pentagon is the emblem of a happy cnterprize and good 
success, proceeding from the following consideration : — Anliochus the First, sur- 
named Soler, i. o. Saviour, waging war with the Galatians, and perceiving, by the 
daily increase of new dangers and difficulties, that the issue would not be so prosper- 
ous as he could wish, dreamed, or so pretended, in order to spirit his soldiers, that 
he had conversation with Alexander the Great, who advised him to take for his em- 
blem the common word of salutation, in Greek YTEIA, or, I wish you health and 
prosperity, and to give it to his connuanders and soldiers for the general watch-word, 
and have it carried on their arms, shields, and barriers, as being to serve him for a 
token of victory ; whereupon he described to them the shape of this emblem ; which 
was, three triangles drawn through each other with five lines, constituting a quiutan- 
gulai- figure, and on each angle one of the said letters. Antioclins, having done this 
obtained a signal victory over the Galatians. There are still extant several coins 
and medals oi Antiochus, being the said pentagon or quintangular figure. 

2 H 2 



JS6 Of Still Life. 

The Arq-onauts, or thoso o( Ar^ros, liad the letter A in tlieir ensign, as being their 
initial Unter; yet they hear likewise a fox or rat. 
Tlie Messininns carried an M. And 
The Jeus had the letter T, the token of salvation. 

The paintrd and engraved shields (in reference to which, many of the learned 
would derive the Latin word scutum, a shield, from sculptiira, because it was cus- 
tomary to engrave or reprrsetit glorious actions and histories upon them) were an- 
ciently a certain sign of the valour of those Avho carried them: and, lest the soldiers, 
in the heat of battle, should mistake their comrades, each legion, according to Ve- 
ffctius, had particular marks on their shields ; and on the inside of which was 
written each soldier's name, and what company he belonged to. 

The shields or targets were of ditrerent makes at the place where they guarded the 
hand : as, those of the first Armenian order had two indentures cut out down the 
.sides; as we have said in the foregoing chapter touching the shields of the Amnzoris, 
These shields were of a sky-blue colour, with a silver field. Those of the second 
Armenian order were quite round, of a purple colour, with a sky-blue field, bordered 
with gold. 

The Vesontians bear shields witli four sinall ones at the angles, making a square ; 
two whereof were of silver, and the others of sky-blue, double bordered. 

The shield of the Menapii had a silver field with a gold dog in full speed, as if 
running to the outside. 

The Mantincans bear in their arms and shields the trident, as a sign, according^ 
to Pindarus, of their being citizens of that town. 

The Romans, after Adrian's time, carried in their crescent-like shields, in a silver 
field, two gold demi-horses curvetting against each other, and called Maiiriferoces, 
or stout and fearless ; whereby some allude to Italij. 
The Spartans bear a dragon. 
The Greeks, the god JSeptune. And 
The Trojans, 3Iinerva. 

The Lacedemonians carried the Greek letter A, for their signification. And 
The Mcsscnians, formerly an excellent and valuafble people, an M, for the sattie 
reason. 

The Athenians often bear an owl in their arms. 

The Jeics aflTirm, that they were the first who made distinction between people of 
high and low degree, by particular tokens: accordingly, those who were of eminent 
or noble families, wore in their shoes a waxing moon. 

The Assyrians, Egyptians, Persians, and Greeks, for that reason used the same 
token : whence it is probable the Turks, in process of time, took it for their 
standard. 



of Still Life. 'Jfl? 

The Jiomans likewise, in token of nobility, wore a waxiii;; nioun on Ihfir slio^s ; 
•which therefore they called lunnluti calcei. 

The Athenians expressed the antiquity of their descent hy a grasshopper; as 
Thucijdidis nAa.{cs\\\ the Ixginninpj ofiiis iiistory, slylirii^ fheni PoHi^alte, from their 
custom of wearing gold grasshoppers in their head-ornanjeiits (an*! their generals 
the same on their helmets), for distinction between the foreign and native nobility. 

Ancient writers assure us, that most heroes bear some device or other on their 
shields; some of which 1 shall here set down, without regard to dignity, or priority 
of time wherein they lived. 

Osiris, sirnamcd Janus, l»are in his ensign a sceptre to|)ped with an eye ; and 
sometimes with the addition of an eagle, the sun, or such like object: and 7s«.v 
carried a moon. 

Hercules, called by some the great Osiris, bear a lion with a battle-axe in his 
paws; or else the seven headed serpent. Hydra. 

3Iars had a wolf, and on his helmet a magpie. 

Pallas carried the head of Medusa on her shield and breast-piece; and, on si«le 
of her helmet, a gritlin ; and on top cither a sphinx or owl. 

Thcseus's device was a minotaur with a club on his shoulders ; and oftentimes, 
an ox. 

Cadmus bear a dragon. 

Castor had a silver star, in a blue field: and 

Pollux the same, in a red one. 

JVimrod, the first king of Babel, bear a ram: and 

Ninus and Serimamus, a dove ; to which the latter added a leopard, because he 
had overcome and killed one. 

//fc/o/- carried a lion sitting in a purple chair, with a halberd in his paws. 

Ufi/sscs a fox, and on his helmet a dolphin. 

Pausanias, in his (ryee/r history relates, that the Elisians ctLVxed on Agamemnon's 
shield a lion's head, in order to atiVight his enemies; and thus subscribed, " Be- 
hold the terror of the world." But Homer is more elegant in this description. 

Pyrrhus bears an eagle ; or, according to some, the Nine Muses, with Apollo 
on mount Helicon. 

Achilles had an oak tree. And 

Paris, a golden head. 

Alcihiudcs" shield was of ivory and gold, and thereon a Cvpid embracing the 
thunder. 

Alexander the Great bear a lion, and oftentimes the image of victory ; or else, the 
Bucephalus, or a wolf, or a ram. 



238 Of Still Life. 

Osciis, king of Tjjrrhennm, now Ttiscany, carried in his arras and sliield a ser- 
pent, which, according to Scrvius, the Roman writer, was also the device of the kings 
of Egypt. 

Judas Macabcens had a basilisk. 

Scipio Africamts bear the pictures of his father and uncle in his shield ; and his 
head-piece represented an elephant's head. 

Sca-vola carried iu his shield the picture of his heroic ancestor, Mutius Scavolce. 

Antiochns had a rod twined with a serpent. 

OctaviauHS Augustus, a sphinx. 

Pi/n/ius, king of Epirus, the same. 

Seleucus, a bull. 

Lucius Papirius Cursor, the horse of Pegasus. 

Epaminondas, a dragon. 

Pompey the Great, a lion with a sword in his paws: this was also the device of 
his seal ring, delivered after his death to Julius Ccesar. 

Julius Ccesar carried in his standard these words, The Mother Venus ; and, on 
his shield, a double-headed eagle. 

Syllas device was Apollo oi' Delphos. And 

Marius's, the lares, or household gods. 

Mtecenas bear a frog. And 

Vospasianus, the head of Medusa. 

He who would have a thorough account of the shields, targets, helmets, &c. of 
the Greeks, Trojans, and other nations, may satisfy his curiosity by reading Homer 
and Virgil, in their copious and elegant descriptions. 



END OF BOOK XI. 



ART OF FAINTING. 

BOOK XII. 
OF FLOWERS. 

EMBLEM CONCERNING FLOWEUS. 

Youthful Flora sits here attired in blue, yellow, and red, attended by four chil- 
dren representing- the four seasons, each dressed in a garment or drapery of the co- 
lour peculiar to him, and dancing with flowers and fruits, which they present to lier. 



CHAP. I. 

OF FLOWERS IN GENERAL. 

The spring being the most delightful season of the year, it is no wonder that flow- 
ers have a particular cV.arni above other objects ; and this not only in nature, but also 
in a painting ; which though ever so indiflerent, lovers often prefer before a fine piece 
of history or landscape. 

It is remarkable, that amidst the various choices in the art of painting, none is 
more feminine, or proper for women than this ; and the reason is plain. It is also 
to be noted, Ihat of those choices one is as perfect as the other, with respect to 
art, were it ever so singular ; antl though this choice is but a small part of the whole, 
yet it is attended with so many excellencies: for as a bunch of grapes carries its 
perfection, so the least grain does the same. But though both the parts, as well as 
the whole, fall under the same rules, and one master understand his branch as well 
as the other; yet he who has from his youth applied himself to this or that single 
choice, let his progress therein be what it will, can perform nothing else that is good. 



240 Of Flozcers. 

Wo have many inslaucos of pxrellent masters who departed from the general to par- 
licuhir clioices witli applause, hut of none who have done the contrary without dis- 
credit. I reckon discredit as bad an exchan<;e as copper for gold, or M'alcr lor wine. 
Of the former sort arc innumerable Jtulian and rrc/u/i as well as Low Dutch mas- 
ters ; but of the latter few, among wliom Vcrcht alone claims the laurel, to the wonder 
of those who knew him when he painted tlowers : for, if ever a painter excelled in 
that branch, he was the person : neither Mario da Fiori, father Segers, or de Heein 
came up to such a pitch ; and yet through a bad exchange, he at last fell from an 
agreeable spring into a sorrowfid winter, wiierein he perished. I bring this example 
for two reasons : first, in contirniation of my assertion, that he who can perform the 
most diflicult things, may easily, even without trouble, attain those of less considera- 
tion ; but not the contrary without disadvantage and discredit. Secondly, because 
my design is to treat of flowers, as an effectual admonition to those who would be- 
stow their time with advantage on that single choice. 

Flower painting is certainly a commendable study; but as there are dou1)l(> and 
single flowers, so there are two sorts of flower painters ; the one singular and simple, 
and the other rich and ingenious; of which latter sort we have but few, and of the 
former abundance. Three things are e.specially necessary in a good flower-piece, 
first, choice and beautiful flowers ; secondly, good disposition and harmouy ; and, 
lastly, neat and soft penciling. First, the flowers must not be poor or mean, but 
snch as are large, beautiful, and in esteem. Secondly, that whether lying or stand- 
ing, they always keep their proper quality and shape, i. e. that the round seem not 
by too extravagant a spread to be triangular, square, or oblong, whereby to mistake 
one flower for another ; that the most noble and beautiful have the predominancy, 
and that by their placing they produce an agreeable mixture of colours, delighting 
and satisfying the eye; consisting in so ordering the strong and striped with the faint 
ones, as to exhibit a lovely rainbow. Lastly, that each fiower be well expressed ac- 
cording to its nature and quality ; as one thin, another thick, this soft and limber, 
that set and stiff; one shining, another dull and glossless. 

We are in the next place to sui>|iose, that it is impossible to be a master without 
a firm and exact draught and thorough acquaintance with perspective, together 
with good knowledge of the colours and their bodies, and which will stand best; 
and lastly, a due inquiry into the nature of flowers, that they may be treated accord- 
ingly. 

He who would follow this study in good earnest ought to be master of a flower 
garden, which he should carefully cultivate, that he may in the seasons be furnished 
with fine and choice flowers : for though modelling be a great assistance in winter 
practice, when the life is not to be had, yet no perfection is altainaljle without the 



Of Flouers. 241 

lifo. llo who is a firm and uiiuhlc drauglitsinan, and a good manafjcr of water ro- 
loxu'S, lias a doiililo advaiitne;o, and may in time pot a treasure of hoauh'fiil model 
flowers, boaring' {>;ood prices and great cstoom amoncj the curious. After (he flowers, 
the j^^reen leafing- of them is of great importance, through its various qualities and 
diflerence in texture and colour, causing a flower piece to look natural and more de- 
corous. 

CHAP. II. 

OF TAINTING FLOWERS IN HALLS, A 1> ARTM F-N TS, GALLERIES, BUT 
PRINCIPALLV ON CEILINGS FOR ORNAMENT. 

Xt is the business of a good flower painter principally to aim at what is praise- 
-worthy. What great things, what glorious occasions is there for a master s fame 
But this lies not always in the representations of garlands of flowers, pots, glass 
bottles, butterflies, flying beetles, cobwebs, or drops of water, any more than in neat 
penciling and bright colours, with which we think to set the world in a gaze. Such 
trifles are too low, and the repetition too irksome for the taste of noble souls. What 
opportunities do not daily happen in palaces, gardens, galleries, and apartments, for 
shewing our skill and ingenuity? Suppose to yourself a lofty room built with white 
marble, and set out w itli tine pictures and bass-reliefs, for the common recreation of 
young gentlemen and ladies : this room may be embellished above, and on each side 
of the ni(;hes, with fine and large festoons of flowers : between (he pilasters and over the 
bass-reliefs much green ; yet somewhat less in case any landscapes be there ; and on 
the white marble may be all sorts of beautiful coloured flowers. On red marble 
contrarily, white and yellow ones, &c. according to the rules of art, and in large 
parts : now light, then again dark leafing, as the matter and ground require. But of 
the several grounds and colours of flowers suitable to them, we shall hereafter treat 
particularly. On the ceiling there may be thin branches of airy foliage, also iiiter- 
mi.xed with flowers, here festoon-ways, there in groups, fastened with ribbons or 
rings, and having in some places loose sprigs and leaves projecting from the ground, 
and returning their proper shades thereon (which though the li('f is not (o be had, 
may by some such made things be performed) that they may seem more naturally to 
hang ofl'. Such flowers and leaves ought to be strongly and boldly handled, but yet 
so as to seem fastened to the work ; well considering the colour and lightness or 
darkness of the ground, and choosing for it flowers of such colours, that some may 
look as if sticking (o it, and others coming oft". Now if many festoons be to hang in 
such a place or room, they must needs have a like length, breadth, and fullness, and 
be placed equally high or low. What dift'erence is it to us, whether the proprietor 

VOL. II. 2 I 



242 Of Floucrs. 

desire to havi- flowers or fruits, or a mixture of both? For the festoons may be filled 
witli peaches, apricots, mulberries, plumbs, &c. hanging on their twigs. Over the 
representation of a bacchanal some bunches of white and blue grapes, iuterniixed 
with pine-apples, look becoming. On the alcove may hang loosely over it papavers 
of all sorts of colours, interspersed with i)oppies, tied here and there with ribbons, 
as most proper for that place. 

Why should not such sorts of ornament be agreca])le when naturally disposed aiu. 
painted; especially if well lighted, and the ground shades duly expressed on the 
ground? The company beforementioned may possibly raise mirth enough among 
themselves ; but so pleasant a sight nuist needs be a great addition to it. Let us 
tiierefore take hold of every opportunity that oflers, and in the mean time exercise 
our talents in the attainment of a great handling. Let us exchange our small chillios 
for whole walls ; our pots or bottles for vases ; and a nniddliug for a beautiful man- 
mer. Let us iuipiire what tlowers are painter-like, and which the principal; con- 
joining their sense, :ippUcation, and colour together, with their proper grouuibi. 



CHAP. III. 

THAT .V II.DW liU-l^\INTER SHOULD UNDERSTAND PE RSPKCT I V E '. ALSO 
THE MISTAKE OE Jl E P R ESE N TX^ G THINGS IM PK O 1*EI{ L Y . 

\ > E have already asserted, that a good flower-painter must needs understand per- 
spective : and yet (w hich is to be lamented) few know any thing of it ; possibly, sup- 
posing they have no occasion for it, and that thei-eforc this branch is so much easier 
than history, or any thing else which cannot subsist without perspective, as indispu- 
tably re(puring more by-works, viz. architecture, landscape, or other object causing 
ground shades, which never happen in their work : and, should thi-y at any time be 
iion-plussed, they can get help from those who are acquainted with perspective. If 
therefore they have but a point of sight, they think that sufficient; and yet not for 
the sake of the flowers, but solely for the corner of a marble table or slab, whereon 
they set a flower glass, as if the lighting or shading of the flowers were a matter of 
iudiflerence; this from a-side, that fronting; one from below, another from above; 
whence their pieces have usually many points of sight, sometimes as many as there 
iire (lowers. But it cannot be otherwise, since they often paint after models; plac- 
iu"" a flower on the left side, which stood before on the right, and the contrary, or else 
below or above; which they imagine nobody will discover, because they cannot seo 
It themselves'. 



Of J'/uKcrs. 243 

Aiiotlior ridiculous custom ofsoniL' flower puiiitt-rs, in inj opinion is, tlint in paint- 
ing any gloss bodies, such as flower glasses, goht, silver, or copper vaM's, after the 
life, Ihcv (ail not to shew tiienin the panes of the wil)^lo^vs, and aftrrwards to lian:;^ 
the ])ictnres in halls and galleries wliicli have none. 1I< re let nie take notice of an 
extraordinary nici- and linished pie( e of that nature, painted hy a certain known 
gontlewonian, wherein not only sonu; stalks of the flowers appeared naturally 
through the glass, hut also her own ])icture in her jiostnreof jiaintinir, with such an 
air, as evidently showed itwas she Nvhosat in it : nor did she forget to represent al»iO 
the windows and j)anes, sky and clouds. We need nr>t (piestion whether she endea- 
voured by the depth of her penetration, to sur|)ass her master in that piece of work. 
This eas(> is a-kin to that of a certain young artist, uho paintirrg a looking gla«R 
fronting, brought into it all that appeared iRliiml him: pefiplecouhl not be persnail- 
ed it was a looking glass, thougli painted dark and dull, and it had a frame about it ; 
and his protestations, that every thing was taken from the life, stood him in little 
stead ; wherefore to salve the matter as he thought, lie painted himself in the looking- 
glass, silting at his easel; and to make it more perfect undcrwrit, — •" this is a looking 
glass, and that is me." 



CHAP. IV. 

OP rLowr.Rs ox all sorts or grounds. 

J_H\T white is set oft' by black, and the contrary, needs no demonstration ; aufl, o« 
the other hand, white on white, and black on black, causes a sticking together; of 
which particular a notice ought to be taken, that flowers may have their due force 
and effect ; so ordering them, tliat some seem to stick to the grormd, and others t-o 
come ofl' from it. The most proper grounds for flow ers are these : 

The colour of blue tomb-stone. 

Dark-olive or green serpentine. 

Light-grey freestone. 

White marble, but of a second tint. 

This oltservation would rather spoil a good composition, tlian liave the desired 
effect, if we did not maturely weigh what uses we would put these grounds to, as 
also where the flowers most properly ought to have the greatest strength, and 
where the greatest weakness, in order that the principal (I mean, the fixed stone 
and wood work) may not thereby be overpowered. I say strength, with respect to 
force and beauty : but I mean not by weakness, that the colour, light, or shade 

2 1 2 



244 ^\i' I'lowen. 

slioulil be oc;\kcaed or .sullied : however, I shall in the sequel explain what I mean 
by that word. 

Any colour suits on white ; but the darkest most beautifully. Warm colours are 
preferable to the broken ones, and the most weak ought to be on the extremi- 
ties ; but few white ones, and those with caution. What I now say concerns the 
disposition ; which I shall more plainly treat in speaking of festoons and groups of 
flowers. 

The black grounds, though quite diflerent from the preceding with respect to 
great force, can give little reflection, and therefore do not admit of light or weak 
flowers ; but nevertheless fall under the same rules and observations as flowers on a 
white ground ; because the greens by their union have a relation to the ground and 
colour. 

Red and yellow suit not but with dark grounds. 

All flowers and greens look well on a grey ground. 

All weak flowers, aa violet, light purple, blue, apple-blossom, and w hite, agree 
with a warm ground. 

Flowers have a particular decorum on a gold or silver ground; and still greater 
on copper or bronze, by reason of their darkish lustre; since the colour of gold is 
too strong, and that of silver too pale. 



CHAP. V. 

OF TIIK DISPOSITION OF FLOWERS AND THEIR COLOURS IN FKSTOONS 

AND GROUPS. 

Having hitherto treated of flowers in general, we shall now proceed to their dispo- 
sition in groups and festoons. 

I shall compose each group of emblematic colours, as yellow, red, purple, violet, 
blue, and white, which I consider as follows. 

The first group yellow, having for its principal flower a turnsol, African or mari- 
gold, anemone, &c. W'hich I style upper j)Ower, or eternity. 

The second red, as peonies, papaver, roses, &c. signifying power or might. 

The third, purple flowers, roses, papavers, tulips, &c. implying nobility. 

The fourth, violet, as Jritillaria or fritillary, &c. signifying inconstancy. 

The fifth, blue, as iris convolvolus or bind-weed, implying constancy. 

The sixth, white, as the lily or white rose, &c. signifying purity. 

It must be observed, that though in these groups the capital flowers be of a par- 



Of i'/oaevs. 24,5 

ti(.iil;ir (.uloiir, yd. (hey \\'\l\ admit of other small ones about tlieiu of various coJours 
suiting tliprewilli ; as, 

With Iho ycHow, purple, \iolet, and blue. 

Jled, li<;l)t-ycllow, apploblossnui, dark blue, arid white. 

Purple, white, yellow, and lif2;ht blue. 

Violet, rosr-colour, orani^e, light red, and ash-blue. 

Blue, purple, orange, light yellow, aud white. 

Two e!(j)i(al rolonr.s, as deep yellow, verniillion or blue must never be placed bv or 
upon one another. 

White .suits any where, except on deej> yellow, or deep red. 

Dark green agrees with all light flowers. And, 

Pale gnen with dark flowers. 

Under (he.'^e groups there should always be either a motto or ver.se. 

As for festoons they may be handled in the same manner, yet with less confinement : 
if the emblematic colour have but the middle place, that is sufficient: the other parts 
maybeCilled u|» with such colours as we please, provided they have somewhat less 
brightness than the principal : for instance, let the middle flowers be large and high 
coloured, as yl/i7Ctf«5 or marigolds, yellow and red; on the right side maybepurple, 
as roses, anemones ; and on the left blue, as iris fios principius, hyacinths, &c. 
The })urpleside mixed with little white and less yellow : the blue side with yellow 
and red : and the yellow in the middle, with violet dark blue, little purple and white. 

In a second festoon, white may possess the middle place, as white roses, lilies, ami 
others; on the right side may be yellow, and on the left pale red. The yellow may 
be diversilied with purple, violet, and dark blue ; the red with pale yellow, white, \io- 
let, and dark blue ; and the whitein themidde, with rose colour, violet, purple, and 
beai tiful red. 

In the middle of a third festoon may be red, as papavers, anemones, &c. On 
the right side, striped flowers of purple and yellow, violet, and pale yellow, di- 
versilied with dark blue and beautiful red ; but, on the other side, all plain 
flowers. 

The white may be intermixed with flowers of any colour, except light yellow. 

The intermixture consists of small flowers; but the single coloured, whether in 
the middle or largest, as also those on the sides require their particular small di- 
versifying flowers, i. e. the single coloured with speckled or striped, and the con- 
trary. 

If either group or festoon, full or close flowers should always be placed in the most 
relieved p;ut, The open ones are mostly set on the sides in order to create shade. 
For instance, let the middle part of a festoon have the largest, finest, and fullest 



24(3 Of rioiio's. 

llowftrs, such as ivd and whito loscs, ijapavcrs, i>:r. Bclwcon llie middle and the ex- 
tremities, II lesser sort, as tidips, anemones, narcissuses or daHbdils, gilli-flowers, 
inulva rosea, &c. Fiu'ther towards the extremities, the more long and smaller ones, 
as astragalus, ranunculus or crow-foot, convolvoliis, flos principis, borage, harbatum 
nigri, violets. 6ic. 

On the relief of the festoon, l)et\V(M>n the largest and middh; sort, may be a mixture 
of the suiallot llowtrs. li' the middle llowtr be yellow, (hose fin'ther oft' ought to be 
purple or red, and such as are towards the corners white and blue; the longer the 
Aveak«-r, that the strongest colour may keep the middle. But if white have the 
middle place, the other parts must not eclipse it with yellow and red. 

A conijilete festoon must have an orderly disposition, not only with respect to the 
flowers themselves, whether large or small, but also in the placing of double and 
single ones : as lirst, white loses aiwl centifoliiv, next single roses, and lastly, wild 
blossoms. 

As for the colours, there are single and half coloured flowers: the single coloured 
are peonies, roses, &c. and the others striped or speckled with two or more colours ; 
as anemones with white and red, striped roses, tulij)s, Sec. Which ought to bo so re- 
gularly ordered, as to raise in the eye a balancing mixture, and to unite the strong 
and weak, that the one do not project too much, and the other too little ; and that at 
a distance, and at one view, the festoon may have its due sway. Yet if here or there 
it be either too weak or too strong, you must recollect how it maybe helj)ed. Where- 
fore observe, that yellow and red are strong colours ; and conlrarily, blue and violet 
weak. If too much yellow and red come together, place somewhat blue or violet 
between ; and if too much blueor violet, some yellow or red. 

To begin a festoon well, you ought first to mark o)it its course as yOu will have it, 
either thick or thin : next lay on the green with such leafing as you think ])ropcr, 
but somewhat large, and with due light and shade, according to its light, lieing dry 
Jay in the flowers flat, first the ))rinci])al, (;ach in its place, with a single colour, red, 
blue, or yellow, of such a tint as will best admit of j)aiiiting upon it, the light and 
shade after the life or models. The flowers between with their leafing are put in over 
green, on finishing. The grounds, whether j)lain or in bass relief, or other orna- 
ment, ought to be nearly finished with the first green, to save you the trouble after 
j-jf paring away something here and theic. 



Of f 'loners. • 247 



CHAP. VI. 

CONTINUATION OF T II F, OUDEUINC: AND ri.ACING Till" f t.O \V P. li S, 

X WO observations oC ((msetiiiciKc in a festoon, gron|t, or garland, slill remains; lo 
wil, tlic ordering' tlic (loweis and (heir places ot" liangin;^. 

It is easy to eoneeive, that many small tilings romini;- lofietlier, prodiien, at a dis- 
tance, only acont'iised mass, and little a/leet the senses, as lia\in;^ notliin;^iu them to 
make any impression, or as worth remark ; and tliouj;h each (lower have its [articu- 
lar name, shape, and colour, yet they are only considered iu ge-neral, under the 
name of flowers ; because of their being- placed either too high or too distant. 
Sn(-h festoons or groups look well on paper and iu hand, or on tea-tables, toih ts, and 
the like, either iu painting or needle-work. On tin; oilier hand, large flowers may 
be seen distinctly at a distance, in tlieir qualities, shapes, and beauties. Then each 
flower obtains a name; this is a rose, that a poppy, See. In a word, festoons, 'groups, 
or garlands, placed high, or to be viewed at some distance, ought to be disposed in 
great masses, and separate, with few speckled or striped flowers, lither large or 
small, as having no eflect but when seen near. Therefore it is neccpsary to take, in 
their steads, others of single colours, in order to set off the work with more force anil 
distinction, and to give the eye satisfiictiou. For this reason, when seen in hand, 
they ought to unite and to look more separate and distinct. But I shall endeavour 
to explain this by some examples ; chusing two groups — one agreeably uniting so as 
to be viewed near, an<l the other separating so as to produce eft"ect on being seen at 
a distance. 

In tlui middle of the former is a white rose, and behind it a centi folia ; behirul \\ hich 
is a pur[)le, and behind that a peony. Now these four colours differ but half a tint 
from each other, composing together a half-ball gi'adually rounding. 

The latter, contrarily, though having also a white flower iu the middle, has behind 
it a purple one, and behind that a dark violet, a colour darkc r than that of the peony 
And these will create a greater force than the former, as starting more suddenly 
from each other, and dissolving a whole tint, as the others did but a half one. 
Whence it is evident, that the more distinct the tints are, the more lively and strong 
they will appear. 

For further satisfaction, I shall subjoin five other examples of festoons% as full 
again as those of the preceding chapter, since they sometimes happen to be of dif- 
ferent sizes, and therefore requiring more flowers. 1 di\ide them thus: — 



248 Of Flowers. 

The First. 

In the iniddlo yellow, next white, then purple or violet ; and lastly, yellow. The 
other side the same. 

The Second. 

In the middle white, next yellow, further blue, and the last yellowish white. The 
other side the same. 

The Third. 

In the middle red, next blue, then yellow, and lastly violet. The other side the 
same. 

The Fourth. 

In the middle purple, next pale yellow, then blue, and lastly light red. The other 
side the same. 

The Fifth. 

In the middle violet, next orange and other yellow, then blue, red, and violet. 
The same on the other side. 

The three last ought to be intermixed with white, and the two first with variety 
of colours, as it best suits, in order to unite the parts with each other. 

Three sorts of ilowers are proper for intermixture,viz. yellow, red, and blue — all 
in their greatest beauty. 

If the work consist mostly of red and yellow, it ought to be intermixed with 
blue; and if of blue, you must take yellow ; but if of all three, you are to use white, 
so distributing it as to refresh the eye. 

Now, for proof of what has been said, I shall shew here two methods of great 
use to a flower-painter, though they may seen trifling. 

Painting all sorts of flow ers on cards or pasteboard, as rude as you please, even 
but a single spot for racli, and five or six of each colour, or as many as there are 
tints, red, blue, purple, yellow, violet.* Let these be capital flowers. Next, make 
smaller ones for intermixture, of red, blue, yellow, and white, as beautiful as pos- 
sible. Cut all these asunder, and lay each colour orderly by itself in a little box. 
Then paint up a green festoon or group on pasteboard, and thereon place such 
flowers as you please, shifting and changing them according to your design. And 
thus you will perceive the truth of what has been before spoken. 



Of Flowers. 249 

The other method is this. Take a parcel of flowers of all sorts, made of paprr or 
silk, and with wired stalks, as tliey are sold l>y the tire-woimn. Now, if yon woidd 
make a group, festoon, or basket of flowers, or any such Ihiii'j;, ordo- and shift 
those flowers by and npoii one another, as they suit best ; and thns yon may ex- 
ercise yonrsflf iu winter time, when you cannot have the life; because those flow- 
ers never wither. Green festoons may also be furnished after the same manner, and 
flowers hung on them according to your desire. 



KKD OF BOOK XII. 



VOL. II. 2 K 



TIIK 

ART OF FAIMTIWG. 

BOOK XIII. 
OF ENGRAVING, 

oiNCE neither Caesar Ripa nor any other author gives us the figure of the art of 
engraving, with itssiguilication, I shall here make it preliminary ; and, in the sequel, 
shew what respect is due to this art by its reflections and even relating properties 
with that of painting. 

CHAP. I. 

JL HIS beautful virgin, sitting at a table, had before her a copper-plate lying on a sand 
bag, and near it stands a little monkey, placing a lighted lamp before her. She is 
attended by Prudence and Diligence ; and Practice is setting the tools on an oil- 
stone. Her chair is of ebony, adorned with figures of Sincerity and Assiduity, 
wrought in ivory, and mutually embracing ; behind which stands Judgment, shew- 
ing* her a little further Painting, accompanied by Apollo and Diana. He holding 
up his torch in order to enlighten Sculpture, and she hers, reversed, with purpose 
to extinguish it. The genii, in the mean time, are every where busy in providing 
necessary materials. The eldest offers her a drawing either redded or whitened on 
the back, and a point or needle for tracing it on the plate. This drawing represents 
the design she is going about. Others in an inner apartment are employed in heat- 
ing a plate on a chafing dish, and laying the ground even with a feather. Here one 
is etching, there another biting a plate; others taking and viewing proofs with great 
attention and pleasure, &c. while Fame, having a proof of a portrait in her hand, 
w itli her trum))et sounds out at window the praises of masters or engravers. Ho- 
nour, crowned with laurel, and bearing a small pyramid, is entering the room, usher- 



Of Engraving, 251 

hig in Annona, or Prosperity, ^vho Jias a cormiropi'.p, or horn, fiMfd with fruits. 
Round the room are set on podcstals divers husts of famous etchers and fii;;ravrrs ; 
as Mark Aniovy, Andra/i, EJelinck, Vamlcr, M^ilen, and several other Ilalian 
and French, as well as Dutch and German masters. In the oflscape, ICuro/je, Asia, 
and Africa appear standing in surprise at the sound of the trumpet. 



CHAP. II. 

or THE AIIT 01' ENGRAVING IN GENKRAL. 

JLhat I may treat of this art in a methodical manner, I think proper to observe 
first, in what its excellence consists ; next, its performance; and lastly, the qualifi- 
cations of an etcher and an engraver. 

The art of engraving is highly praise-worthy, because it refers to painting, as 
pahiting does to nature : for, as the latter has nature for its model or object, which 
it failhfully imitates v\ith the pencil ; so engraving also copies painting, either with 
the needle or graver, in sucli manner as only to stand in need of colours. Painting 
consists in a fine correct outline, proportion, light and shade: and these are also the 
foundations of engraving. Painting distinguishes between common light and sun- 
shine : engraving does, or can do the same. In fine, whatever one performs with 
the pencil, the other can in a great degree express with the needle or graver, whether 
stutls of diflerent kinds, wool, silk, satin, linen, glass, water, gold, wood, stone, &c. 

Its performances are to the sight, what fame is to the ear. Painting has but one 
result, but engraving hundreds. Fame can tell the many wonders of painting in 
its absence; but engraving makes itself every where present; flying over the uni- 
verse, as well as the sounding trumpet of fame. It keeps an eternal register of 
every thing that is praise-worthy : and as to the entire welfare, even happiness or 
imhappiness of a good painter, depends on the certainty or uncertainty of the en- 
graver, as I shall shew in my remarks on prints after paintings or designs ; so the 
latter ought to disengage himself from prejudice and inclination to this or that par- 
ticular manner, and exert his skill in an axact imitation of what he is to engrave or 
etch after any manner or any master, be it flat or rising, dark or light, without ad- 
dition or diminution, except with the licence of the painter or designer. His work 
must be like a clear looking-glass, which exhibits all objects true and without de- 
viation. As to the manual operation, line penciling is a great step to grace ; and, in 
order to obtain it, the knowledge of three things is absolutely necessary; which are, 
the art of drawing, perspective, and the doctrine of light and shade: these, as 

2k 2 



252 Of Engraving. 

principals, compose the theory of the whole. He ought also to be very diligent in 
hatching with the pen or red chalk, in order thereby to get a firmness oftonch ; and 
it behovfs him, as wi'll as the paialer, to draw after the naked life and tlie dressed 
laymen. He should likewise be furnished with prints, both engraved and etched^ 
of the most famous masters. 



CHAP. III. 

OF THE OENEIIAL ELEGA>'CE REQUISITE IN A GOOD PRINT; AND OF 
THE DIFFERENCE BETWEEN BOOK AND OTHER PRINTS. 

jLhf. grace of a well-rtched or engraved print Consists, first, in a bright light and 
dark shade; by which I understand th;it tlie faint hatching on the ligliied parts be 
kept almost imperceptible, and the shady touches contrarily strong and dark. Se- 
condly, that the naked, or carnations, be hatched fine and somewhat dull, and the 
draperies courser or rougher, according to their qualities ; yet all without any out- 
line, either on the light or shaded side, even so that the extremities be only form- 
ed by the tint of the grounds against which tluy come. Bit to give the work the 
greatest perfection, and shew the judgment of the ma.ster, the tints of the colours 
should also appear as much as possible; yet as a print does not so entirely con- 
sist of fine composition, beautiful figures, elegant by-works, and neatly cut or 
etched strokes, as in a good general harmony, so this harmony ought to be prin- 
cipally studied. 

The engraver* will be commendable sometimes to express in his work the colours, 
if the mattir require it ; such as the white and black in the day and night, good and 
bad angels or spirits, &c. These two observations are absolutily necessary in a 
book-print: the others before-mentioned are only requisite in such as represent a 
complete picture; for there is a great difference between book and otiier prints : the 
former express the matter Avhich is represented, even were it designed in wliite mar- 
ble, bass-relief, nay, in snow or sand ; and the latter consider only the master who 
painted it, and his art, together with that of the engraver and his capacity. For this 
reason book-prints stand in need of explanation, but other prints not; for the colour 
is in the one, what the writing is in the other. 



* The practices of eii'^rctving, nith a view to rejircscnt the tones of colours, have, 
vithih these Jew j/ears, beat carried so much bci/ond what aas (Inne formeihj., that these 
observations may appear almost obsolete. H. 



Of Engraving. 253 



CHAP. IV. 

OF THK DIFFKRENCK OF ENGKAVIXG A V D ETCHING. 

According to tlio general opinion, and not without reason, etching is arroiinfcd 
more loose and painter-like than engraving, because there is no difterence between 
etching and drawing, as to the execution ; but the difl(>rence lietween drawing and 
engraving is very great. The management of the necdh; is almost the same with 
that of chalk or the pen: tiie plate lies flat and firm like the paper to draw upon. 
But we find tlie contrary in engraving; wherein the engraver is held almost parallel 
with the plate, and the latter is moveable on a cushion or saud-bag. And as to force 
there is also less occasion for it in etching than engraving. 

INow to prove that etciiingmust be more painter-like than engraving, let us only 
make our remarks on both in the course of their business, each having a design be- 
fore him ; and then we shall find the reason to be, that in the one both the drawing 
and plate are fixed before the artist, and he only moves his hand ; whereas the other 
cannot go forward without stirring, the plate being continually turning, and both 
the hand and arm employed in directing the graver; by which means engravers are 
often hindered from perceiving the difterence between their work and the pattern, 
before a part, nay the whole, be finished. Wherefore, in my opinion, etching is su- 
perior to engraving in exactness and speed. I say speed, because three or more 
plates may be etched before one can be engraved. Etching is also most painter-like, 
because of its near afluiity to drawing, as we dailj' experiment ; for where one paint- 
er or designer engraves for his pleasure, a hundred take to etching, and make good 
progress therein ; because of the slow advances in engraving compared to etching, 
whether in figures or buildings, but especially landscapes. And since painters or 
designers care not to have their designs censured and corrected by others, they 
choose rather to etch them themselves than to set about engraving; an art not to be 
mastered without much expense of time, in getting knowledge how to handle tJie 
tool, whereby it would become rather labour than diversion. 

Many engravers etch for pleasure, because of its easiness; but seldom any etcher 
handles the graver, imless in case of necessity. To this, perhaps, it may be ob- 
jected, that as each painter or designer has a particular choice wherein he labours 
most, as one in the ordonnan(;e, another in the nicety of draught, and a third in thf- 
neat finishing of some particular things, therefore the title of designer-like in etch- 
>i £• is not absohitrly due to painter? or drs^irrncrv. To>\hirh I n-i<;wer. that uin 



254 Of Engraving. 

doubtedly the word must not be understood to relate to modern designers, becanse 
it was ill use before ctcliing was brought to its present perfection ; as appears by 
Caracci, Titian, Antonio Tempcsta, t^r. who excelled in design, and usf d the needle 
with no other view than to give the world the designs, which they counted capital 
and most praise-worthy, for the encouragement and consideration of tlie less know- 
ing. Whence we plainly perceive, that their intention was only to put forth their 
own perfornmnces in such a manner as safely to be relied on ; accordingly, we scarce 
see a)iy more in them than an outline: but this is so firm and correct, that however 
slightly the other j)arts may be scratched, these works of their own hands are more 
valued than those of the best and most famous engravers or etchers. 

We have example in the print of the woman by the well, etched by Caracci him- 
self, how much it differs from that done by L.e Poire, and another by Bishop. 

AVhat a vast difference is there between Pcrrier^ and Uis/iop^s works, as to the 
painter-like looseness of handling: and in landscapes, between Titia7is and Perelles. 
I could, if need required, produce more proofs of the antiquity of the word painter- 
like ; but shall wave them, and acquaint the reader how oddly I took to etching, and 
liow strangely 1 drudged before I could succeed. 

Having in my youth an inclination for etching, but no knowledge of what was 
good or bad, as seeing no other example than the old and poorly engraved prints of 
Raphael, Michael Angela, Paul Veronese, Tintorct, ^c. which yet were excellent 
for their fine outline, and few etched ones, my slender attempts may be easily guessed 
at. Indeed I cannot but still think of it with wonder ; for I began not with copper 
or steel, but a piece of pewter and a nail about a finger's breadth, which, with great 
pains, I ground to a point after my own way : first I tried only single strokes, and 
then cross-hatching, which looked strange enough ; and instead of a rolling-press, 
J rubbed the back of my proofs with the nail. This, however, did not abate my 
curiosity, which daily increased, though my work appeared so black as to be scarce 
intelligible. My father seeing this, could not forbear laughing; and for humour 
sake gave two or three of my proofs to Barlholet, and he again to Natalis the la- 
mous engraver, who bestowed on me some little instruction and a small copper- 
plate to try on. But what drudgery had I undergone before I scratched this beau- 
tiful plate ! Bosses Book on Etching happening to be published at that time, I left 
<jff plaguing myself, and cheerfully set about splitting of vvood, providing needles, 
Ijuiling grounds, cleaning plates, buying aqua;-fortis, wax, &c. When before! knev/ 
uf no better ground than thick and foul oil, boiled to a blackness, which gave me 
no little trouble to get off the plate again after it was bit; and which, therefore, I 
was obliged to put into the fire till it was soft as lead. Things so far succeeding to 
my wish, 1 happened to see some prints of Vovet from France, which spurred my 



Of T.ngraviiiif. • 25.> 

curiosity; and I should rrrtaiiily liavo made early and pood progress, had not my 
father been fearful I uiiglit (ix my thoiifjhts on this study to the neglect of paintiiifj. 
Wherefore he dissuaded nie from it, saying, it was too soon to enter on so diflicult a 
pastime, and instructing me in other things as delightful as advantageous. Marrying 
some years aft«n-, I went to Holland, wliero I re-assumed this noble art with greut 
pleasure, and which I do not repent of; though some think it the cause of my mis- 
fortune. The truth of this God knows : yet had 1 saved candle, and used more 
day-light for it, perhaps my old age might have proved more comfortable to me ; but, 
alas ! those two noble sisters, painting and etching, are now vanished w ith my 
sight. 

Let the reader judge, whether he ever heard of a stranger way of etching. How- 
ever, I mention it liere to shew, that a diligent man, getting better instruction, may 
in time gain his point. It is certain, that few young men would have had patience 
enough to drudge as I did without instruction ; l)ut that an industrious tyro, after 
leaving his master, may possibly improve through diligence and study is very na- 
tural ; even so as to excel him in neatness, smoothness, and expedition, as well in 
etching as engraving — I mean in the use of the graver and needle, but not in know- 
ledge. By knowledge, I understand keeping the likeness of a beautiful face, hands, 
and feet, according to what we say in the second chapter, that the knowledge consists 
in a correct outline, proportion, light, and shade, and perspective : for we com- 
monly see the greatest faults committed in the aforesaid parts for want of know- 
ledge, and not inuring themselves to draw by hand large things after small, and the 
contrary, but accustoming themselves to squaring; a practice not difficult to a 
swineherd's boy, if he understood the divisioil of squares and management of chalk. 
But they may yet be erroneous in tracing their object on the plate, though drawn 
upon squares ; for missing the outline in the least, either inwardly or outwardly, it 
presently becomes too little or too big : but the tyro cannot see this for want of due 
knowledge ; and though he may be sensible, that here or there he has a little missed 
the outline, yet he passes it over as a matter of no great moment ; and if he propose 
to help it in etching or engraving, he may possibly forget it before he come so far in 
the work : he commonly thinks no further than what is already on the plate. Whence 
"we may easily conclude, that he who knows what constitutes beauty, can be as little 
sensible that a small difference in a face, arm, or hand, is of any great consequence. 
Another difficulty, no less than the former, is, that though the t}ro have the out- 
line correctly drawn on the plate, yet he may run over it when he comes to shade or 
hatch. And as this frequently happens, I shall here give the reason of it. 

In either engraving or etching anything, the distances, whether buildings, land- 
scape., or even grounds, ought always to be begun first, that by rese'rving the princi- 



256 , Of Engraving. 

pal things lor the last, the haiul may bo prepared to treat them with more boldness. 
Now llie tyro being to engrave or etch a ground behind his figure, be it naked or 
dressed, he will not only (especially in engraving) end his hatching against the out- 
line, but sometimes exceed it; whereby the parts, whether arm, leg, or hand, must 
needs lose their true proportion and quality : and thus the almost imperceptible and 
tender rising muscles, folds, and hollows are made even, and consequently stiff and 
formal. ?se\erthele^s the work goes on ; and, wlien they come to see the mistake, 
they scrape, burnisb, and rub, to bring it right again; which 1 grant is well enough 
incase of need. But, alas! how seldom is it practised? If it be something of no 
great consequence, it remains as it was without further inspection. This 1 know not 
by hearsay, but Experience. Wherefore they who have an inclinalion for engraving, 
should apply to a painter for instruction in beautiful proportion, and in drawing every 
thing by hand, whether prints, drawings, paintings, plaister-figures, even the life it- 
self. For [)ainters first teach the theory, or knowledge of proportion, and then the 
practice of colouring; whereas many engravers begin with the practice orexecutive 
part. - _ 

As for the scraping, burning, and rubbing out, before-mentioned, it is a point which 
ought ta be well understood, because it afl'ects not either the too great darkness or 
hardness of the hatching, but the outline; as I shall shew by the example of 
the faces in Plate LXIX. 

In the face A, the hatched ground runs over the outline of the cheek ; whereby 
it appears more sunk in, as in that of B, and thus the outline is lost. Now this 
face being to be finished, and the cheek brotight right again, so much must be scrap- 
ed oft' within the line as ^ give the cheek the former swell : and if the face be a 
fourth part less, the difference will be so much the greater, especially in a portrait, 
and greats etill if it be in profile ; as face C shews, wherein we see how little so- 
ever be taken off with the ground from the tip of the nose, mouth, and chin, it will 
produce another aspect: whence it is evident, wliat a vast alteration this must cause 
in the likeness. 

In this art.as well as painting, it is a constant rule to begin with the back-ground, 
;uid engravers and etchers do it for the same reason as painters : for, when the princi- 
pal figures are finished, the whole piece is reckoned as good as done: the general 
re-toucliing is only to bring harmony or keeping into the work ; here somewhat more 
strength, there more faintness, &c. But what we now speak of, to wit, scraping, 
concerns engraving only ; whereas in etching, nothing is done but stopping, unless 
things are already bit. 

If it be asked, whether what is stopped up cau be repaired before it is bit ; as in 
A, when the hatching, which takes away the swell from the cheeks, is stopped up 



LXIX 




r Xi -^-^ 





fv^i, 




afre/^fe tm^ 



JT t'-/trn^fA<i'*i 



Of Engrari/ig. 257 

■wltli slop-ground, wliollior llion <lio former roundness cannot bo fcfclird out with a 
fine needle on the same tjround, that all may l>ite togcthi r? 1 answer, that this will 
make had Avork : but if something be wanting, it must be touched up with a graver, 
llowpver, I shall shew another method : make a l)nrnisht;r pretty hof, and rub it 
gently and sp(>edily over the part you would lia\e out, and then it will close* up th,<j 
hatching, so that you need neither sloj) up nor bite. Now etch thereon what id neces- 
sary, and thus all may be bit at once. These observations, especially that of nut 
carelessly si)oiling liie outline, as in the examples A and C, are very needful. 

Let any person now consider, how little a lino composition of a faniou.s master, 
when put out of hand in such a condition, can be like the original. And yet this is 
too often the case. However, I assert, that without the former knowledge it is inj- 
possible to become a good master. For he w ho makes a blundering design, and per- 
ceives not the mistakes to be a])parent and convincing, cannot possibly mend them. 
Even great masters sometimes blunder; as we see in Audruns battles o{ Alexnitdi r, 
after Lc JBrmi, what poor hands and fingers he has made in some places, as thin as 
pencil-sticks; especially those which are wide open, as the captive Ponw, and in 
Darius. I cannot too nuich wonder, that in so glorious a work, Audruu did not cor- 
rect such mistakes, since he was one of the best engravers ever known. This indeed 
is but a small matter with respect to so great a work ; nevertheless it makes the same 
imperfect, and becomes a charge upon Le Bnin. But this work had less justice 
done it here in Holland in the copies of Sclwo7icbccic, w ho seems to have used his 
utmost endeavours to spoil it: for there is neither design nor keeping observed. All 
the postures, which in the originals arc fine and beautiful, ho has turned into gri- 
mace ; every thing is lame and crippled. 

CHAP. V. 

REMARKS ON HATCHING. 

XiiE course of hatching yields great pleasure to the eye; because it makes every 
thing appear in its nature and quality, whether wood, silk, steel, water, silver, stone, 
sand, &c. each of which, in engraving and etching, require a particular expression: 
yet in etching it is more expeditious, especially if you can somewhat handle the 
graver. The French ^vi\&t Audran excelled herein. The Si. Bruno oi JBartholct, 
engraved by Natalis, is admirable for the naturalness, which, by particular hatchings 
and the utmost neatness, appears therein. 

Now, when a great ai-tist has shewn his utmost skill in a plate, and all things are 
worked according to rule, yet we find it almost impossible to make people sensible 

VOL, II. 2 L 



258 Of Engraving. 

what true art is, and wherein the knowledge of a ".ood print lies; most men, now-a_ 
days, being taken with fine strokes, without regard to ill order or bad design. A 
sad reflection for those who know better ! 

Again, an engraver or etcher is not so happy as a painter or designer; for these 
last compose what they please, or at least what they can, and the engravers must 
follow them, be they ever so indiflerent. Yet this were no great matter, if tlu y might 
but etch and engrave with as much freedom as painters use with tlieir pencils or 
crayons : this would spirit them to produce finer things, as other ingenious men have 
formerly done, who had their liberty, and did not tie themselves up to any person, 
as many now-a-days are obliged to do. How seldom have they an opportunity to 
work after a tine picture or finished drawing? This has often induced me to think, 
that many a good master understands more than his works shew: happy are they, 
whose circumstances will permit them to execute even but a single plate, according 
to their skill and pleasure. But, alas ! the times will not allow it in these our free 
and noted countries. Moreover, we see many artists sigh and groan under the dif- 
ticulties laid on them by some painters and designers, in sometimes sending them 
such rude drawings, that the round can hardly be distinguished from the square: 
the sharp from the blunt; or wood from stone; even such as they themselves could 
not understand, were they to receive them from others. If the engraver happens 
to hit the design, the master claims honour; but on failure, the engraver is sure 
to bear the scandal : for this reason, it were to be wished, that engravers would, 
before they begin a plate, after such a drawing or sketch, consult the painter or de- 
signer, for a solution of all their doubts, and that they might proceed with certainty. 

I also think it not only useful but necessary, that the designer be particular in his 
expression of all the materials: for instance, that the basement-story of a building 
shew to be of rough stones, the columns and pilasters with the imagery and orna- 
ments of marble, &c. that the engraver may exhibit the former rough by broken 
strokes, and what is smooth and polished by neat and more curious ones, with the 
graver; etching the by-works somewhat coarser again; the wood work with long 
and broken strokes, humouring the grain; the trees, according to the course 
of the boughs, and sway of the leafing; the grounds and serpentine, also broken. 
These observations ought to be heeded in general, as well as in the particu- 
lars, together with the diminution of the distance; yet not in the manner of 
some, by wide strokes, but by closing and making them fine. On this footing 
there would be less complaint of the designers, and these not think themselves in- 
jured on seeing their designs so ill followed. Things thus worked according to rule, 
would certainly prove fine, and the more, in a work of consequence, and bearing a 
price: though to one who understands his business, this management is no more 
rouble than the contrary. 



r/.7/.- i.w 




^.^<e.^ai^e/ye- ih/t^. 



Of Engraving. 259 

I have seen drawings of G'o//^m5, wherein he had plainly expressed all the par- 
ticular objects. The tenderer smooth hodies were well washed, all neatly scnm- 
bled with red or black chalk. What was rou^jh or coarse he ha«I lianrljcd boldly 
with the pen or black chalk : by which means, the one appeared darkrr, and the 
other lighter in the shade, as if it were a picture. Bnt it is no wonder, that we see 
not such things done now-a-days ; for Goltzius used to make his own patterns : and 
as a good painter considers what ought to be stone, wood, flesh, white or l)lack, 
before he colours, so Gollzius did the same, when he was to engrave any thing. 
He would express every thing in his patterns, though he was ever so certain of his 
art, in order to do his whole work after a slight sketch, and that nothing might 
escape him ; on a belief, that we ought not to trust to our memorifs in a matter of 
consequence: wherefore I shall illustrate this point by an example in IMate i.XX. 
wherein I introduce several different bodies : for, besides the correctness of draught, 
I have also expressed their different colours. The wall, A, is rough stone; the 
child, B, tenderly shaded; the vessel, C, of bright copper; the vase, D, white 
polished marble ; the pedestal, or foot, E, of free-stone ; the wooden pale, F, (where- 
on hangs a cloth) veiny ; and the sky and off'-scape, G, as it goes off', the Aiinter 
andffner: by this method of expression I have still another advantage; which 
is, that if by any accident I should leave my plate half done, another hand, by 
this means, may understand my meaning, and finish it. Hereby, even a painter 
may direct another ; who, else, would rather choose to have the works he might 
leave behind him unfinished, rubbed out, than that another, who did not rightly 
know his mind, should finish them. 



CHAP. VI. 

CURIOUS REMARKS CONCERNING STIPPLING. 

iNXanv imagine, they can represent the roundness against the main lights, by stip- 
pling; but they will find themselves mistaken, since it causes a great meagreness ; 
and therefore the method cannot be good : hatching looks better, and has more 
affinity with the shades. Stippling is sometimes useful in case of need, when we 
care not to cross-hatch on the light ; and also, when tlie shades are hatched too 
•wide, in order to express the reflections somewhat the plainer, instead of crossing 
them over again, especially against the light: though it is better to go them over 
again with a fine single stroke : and if you find this will not do, then you may, 
with a finer needle, continue the same hatching somewhat farther: but a better me- 
thod would be, to lay it at once as far as it ought to be, and then somewhat to stop 

2 L 2 



260 Of Eiigravhig. 

up the ends or extrcmilies : he who neglects this, is obliged to make shift -with stip- 
pling; yet that must not be too close. The best way is, lirst, with a fine needle to 
continue the hatching a little farther, and then, with a finer, to extend it till it come 
to nothing; wliich we call broken hatching, as was old Visschers way in his boors 
after Oslade, whereby he prettily expressed the colour of a face, and fetched out 
the main light touches. Stippling is very helpful, and also expeditious to one who 
lias got the firmness of the needle. If you would make it your practice, you need 
not stop to soften the hatching ; for the points thus lengthened answer the same 
purpose ; and then you can proceed with certainty, especially if you use the same 
needle with which the hatching is continued in the light, round the relief: the 
shades, again, ought to be softened with the same needle that made them ; 
then the stippling of the large needle in the shade will not be too visii)le : yet, 
would you work the last stippling in the liglit, with a smaller needle, you may; 
but because the shade ends more suddenly than in the relief in the light, I should 
use no others ; for the stippling is a nice point to him who will be curious. The 
dots ought also to be equal ; I say, equally distant, and not to come between the ex- 
tremities of thestrokt-s. If it be asked, whether any thing hatched too wide can 
be darkened with stippling, instead of a third stroke? my opinion is, that it may; 
and that any thing can be performed in this manner: but the work is more te- 
dious. Things so touched up look very neat; for by strong strokes, fainter ones, 
more faint and points, we can very commodiously darken an object more or less at 
pleasure. IjoM/fo/^'rr has, in my opinion, over-stippled his prints,- which makes 
them look rather like miniature, than any thing else ; wherefore 1 cannot much com- 
uieiid stippling ; and why ? Because of the inequality and meagreness of the points 
or dots, occasioned by touching one harder than another ; whereby, in biting, one 
])< iK'trates the copper more than another, be the dot ever so small : add to this, 
the impossibility of making the dots perfectly round : they will always be more 
or less elongated, as may be easily proved by a magnifying glass. 

I .have seen, in engraved prints of Goltzius, the faint tint upon the relief cross- 
hatched, as well as in the shade ; but this is only proper for engraving, especially 
ill high linishing; because in etching, the cross hatching expresses a coining shade; 
an<l then it may be very well effected by stippling, as broad-lighted objects want 
not so much darkness in the light. 

Now, if any thing should happen to be amiss, and you would beat it out and 
mend it, take a proof and fasten it neatly behind your plate, and then beat out 
w hat you would have away : this may be done even to a hair ; and if you care not 
to strike on the paper, you may mark the place with a sharp point on the copper, 
so as to see it; which will do as well, though the spoiling a proof is but a trifle : 
yet the proof, when once dry, is no more fit for this use ; wherefore the work must 



Of En, graving. 1201 

I)p <lono as soon as tlic proof coiik-s from tlic press; for, Ixiii;^ Wfllfd aj^ain, it 
will always l>o iiiiccrtaiii, and unlike the plate. In order to liiid these little places 
or iTiis))itteii spots with still greater ease, (a method which many engravers make a 
secret of) take a fine thread or string, and put it cross-wise about the plate, tying 
it on the edges, so that the centre of the cross come exactly upon the mishitten spot 
or place: then laying the plate villi the hack upwards, on a smooth and iiard stone, 
beat the place gently with a poin'ed hammer; and then, with some stutftaken I'rorn 
the oil-stone rub it out : thus you may find all the places, how small soever, eveu 
to a hair, on the back of the plate. 



CHAP. VII. 

OF ETCHING B ASS-KELIEFS. 

As we have asserted that each object requires almost a particular handling, so I 
think bass-reliefs call for it: for many who can etch well after a fine picture or 
drawing, are at a loss when they come to imitate and represent a bass-relief: they 
lay the strokes therein as in other objects ; though, in my opinion, the diflerence 
be very great ;- especially if we would not handle them in the manner of Perrier 
and Pictro Santi, but according to rule ; tliough the former understood it the best 
of the two, since his works better preserve the stoniness and design ; and yet he 
has added some things of his o^Vn : but the other has done it to such excess, as 
thereby to render his works obscure : his folds indeed are fine, yet superfluous and 
improper for stone, and more like gold, silver, or bronze; appearing better in a print 
than in stone. In my opinion S'anli understood not the naked proportion, muscling, 
ormoiiou; wherefore I cannot by any means allow him the preference : the truth 
is, thej'are good for a drawing; but were they to be compared with the life, we 
should discover a great difference. In the next place, it is absurd to imagine, that 
so many bass-reliefs as are found at Home and in other places, both under cover 
and exposed, in and upon the triumphal arclies, friezes, niches, pediments, pedestals, 
ancient walls, tombs, columns, and vases, from whence these tw o artists made their 
collections, should all stand in so precise a light, right and left, as they represent 
them in. Certainly, some of them must have been lighted from above, from below, 
fronting, even from all sides ; and I cannot think they drew them by candle-light, 
but rather shaded them as they thought fit. 

1 was once asked whether, since the bass-reliefs stand in many different places, 
moulds or models have not sometimes been taken from them by one or other, from 
which they shadowed their drawings, disposing these models as usual, iu the left 



262 Of Engraving. 

or right light, as ihey thought proper ; which is not improbable. We might like- 
wise light some from above, other*; from below, from a side, fronting and from be- 
hind, in order to use them on any occasion ; which would be a great help to those 
who know little or nothing of modelling. 

We have said, that we think the bass-reliefs of Perricr better in design than 
those of Pictro Santi, but much inferior in tinishing ; though the works of the 
latter, for the reason before assigned, have no affinity with the stoniness ? and yet 
some think, that were the figures three or four feet high, they would have another 
look ; for then the parts would appear more grand ; and those of Verrier, on the 
other hand, too slim and dull; which I do not disown: nevertheless, it must be 
agreed, that this obser\ation is good, in order to shew the difference between carving 
in stone, and chasing in gold or silver : but itis likewisetrue, that had F«mr*finish- 
ed his drawings as well as Santi, they would have been much finerand u;ore useful ; 
for it is easier to leave out superfluities than make additions. It is not improbable, 
that Sand's intention, by his method of management, was, that he might be of greater 
service to painters, statuaries, and chasers, than Vervier. 

We have alTirmed, that Vietro SutUi has possibly added much of his own. Now, 
it is also not unlikely, that Perrier drew his objects from a greater distance than Santi, 
whereby he could not see all the minute parts; and I cannot but at the same time 
think, that Sa?Ui designed most of his bass-reliefs after undamaged within-door 
work, in halls, chambers, and other inclosed places ; whereas Verrier possibly took 
his from without-door work, such as pediments, frontispieces, friezes, and the like, 
half eaten up by the weather. We might still subjoin, that 'Perricr worked only to 
shew the world that such excellent things were at Rome, and at the same time to 
display his light and firm manner of drawing: whereas SautihaA not only a view to 
profit, but also to be generally useful to curious artists and others. How true this 
is let the virtuosi determine. 

As to the right handling of bass-reliefs, I think it absolutely necessary, that every 
thing be etched equally coarse or fine with one and the same needle, without any dif- 
ference with respect to stuffs ; as being the best method for representing the stone- 
work well ; unless it were but a grey one with a fore-ground and distance, when the 
strokes ought to diminish and grow faint, according to perspective. 

There is likewise little observation made about the lights of bass-reliefs ; for often- 
times, things painted siiarp in sun-shine, are exhibited in the plate with a common 
light, through the roundness of the shades ; and sometimes we sec the contrary : 
but these are liberties which neither etchers nor engravers ought to take. He, 
whose province it is to imitate, let him exactly follow the beaten path. In relation 
to etching bass-reliefs, a sharp light or sun-shine is very improper, and renders them 
disagreeable. But as for embellishments in sun-shine, the matter is of less moment . 



Of Etigraving. C6'5 

CHAP. VIII. 

OF r.NGRAVING AND THE MANAGEMENT OF TIIK STROKKS. 

It is to be Monderod, tliiit :iiiioii;jf the many arts and mariuul oprrations, eri^ra^ ing is 
so little, and I'tcliiiij; .so much treated of: the reason whereof is past my apprehension. 
Many painters and lovers, for the enconragement of those who would make it their 
business, or to shew their skill, have earnestly strove to say something of it : but no 
engraver has, to my knowledge, undertaken the task ; possibly, as not thinking 
themselves suflicient for it; or else, because they would keep it as a sec rd from 
each other. But the most probable reason, as I think, is, the late appearance of this 
art ; which is evident, since the Romans till (heir latter times knew nothing of it. 

It is certain, tliat eiinraviug, as well as painting, is founded as much on theory 
as practice, and thai both depend on ( stablished and positive rules, whirh, if orderly 
followed, will make a man a master : why then, are they not made public, for the in- 
formation of the curious in what they want to know? Must not he, who intends to 
go to a town or village, be first told where it lies, and then the ways to it, chusing 
the nearest as best ? 

It is not strange that more engravers have applied to painting, than painters 
to engraving; because the latter have so many excellent books for their encou- 
ragement, published by judicious masters; whereas, engravers have not one con- 
cerning their practice. But as every thing has its time, so we must hope for it 
in this. 

Nam mora dut vires, tcneras mora concoquit uvas, 
Et vuUdas fegclcs, quodfuit herbafacit. 

Or, 

Perfecting time brings on the tender grape, 
And gives the herby corn its ripening shape. 

In the mean time I shall boldly enter the lists, and, according to my .small ability, 
impart what I know of it; but the practice or management I shall not touch upon, 
as not ]ia\inp,- skill tlicrcin : what, however, I mention of it, as uuavoi.alijy neces- 
sary to ^^hat I purpose to say. I submit to those of better knowledge ; hoping my en- 
deavours will not be taxml wiih presumption, since my only aim is, thereby to rouse 
others, and, by my small spark, to kindle a greater fire; according to the Latiii pro- 
verb : Varva Stepe scintilla magnum c.vcitavit incendium. 



264 ■ Of Engraving. 

Weliavobcforo-inonlioncd, First, on what basis engraving is founded. Secondly, 
a o-ood engraver's qualiticalions ; Lastly, ^vhat constitutes an agreeable jjrint : where- 
fore, we shall now discuss the management of the strokes in objects, according to 
their natures and courses, with respect to persi)ective ; and as well in etching as en- 
gravinu:; togrthor with some examples for illustrating the point, and preventing and 
correcting mistakes. 

In I'late LXXl. is a vhtel marked A, ha\iiig eight .epokes, or points; as also a 
stafl', set upright in the ground, crossed by the horizon. This wheel shews, the 
strokes must be governed by the extremity of each spoke, as may be here seen. 
The foremost runs circular; the third, almost straight, &c. Compare also the fore- 
most spoke one, with the hinder one five, how much they ditlVr in force: for one ap- 
proaches, and five retire: which cannot be otherwise according to pers]ioctive. 
Again, the strokes drawn \vith a ruler, and running off towards the point of sight, 
"•row gradnally liner and iuinter. Now though the short or cross hatching ought, 
bv estal)lished rule, to be more visible an J strong than the long, yet few are observed 
to make any distinction therein. 

We have said before, that each object, whether flesh, stone, grounds, &c. requires 
a particidar stroke ; and, among others, that wood especially must be thick-stroked 
alou"- the grain, and consequently cross-hatched with a finer stroke : but now we 
shew the contrary ; for the cross ones are stronger than those running with the grain, 
which here cannot be otherwise. If some say that I contradict myself, in making 
the cross-strokes thus against the grain, I shall, for their satisfaction, shew my rea- 
son for it. Observe, then, that any thing turned, has no other grain than what the 
chissel makes ; and as the turner works against the grain, and the wood retains more 
or less marks of the tool, it must be expressed accordingly in engraving. But a 
secoml question may be, whether it would Tiot do as well, if both the hatchings were 
equally fine or coarse? I answer, it would, as to the shade; but not with respect 
to the stuff: for it would be more proper to stone, copper, wax, and such like : 
nevertheless these observations are generally little heeded, though also founded on 
ceitaiu rules of this art. 

As for the stafl', it shew s, that the strokes, beginning round from below, grow 
straighter as they approach the horizon; and above the horizon, the same, but iu a 
reversed manner. 

Now let us consider the other example, in Plate LXXI. wherein the retiring pa- 
rajjets shew the diminution or faiutness of the strokes, not only in such, but In any 
other oljjects, according to their distance in going off; the one in a greater, the other 
in a less degree. Hereby we may plainly discover the perverse notion of some men ; 
namely, that diminution implies growing scanty or wider. See A, wjtlj a single 



P/a^^ I,XX \ 




ff. t/e Xatre/yg in if 



Of En grating. 20.0 

stroke from one end to the other. IVow, allhon^^li tin; ofl-strok.e« KCftn neater than 
the near, yet they are not so in fact : hut as the place diniinisln-s, so the Htrokeh 
close and thiu in such manner, that they become neither clobcr nor more scanty. 
The diminution of the figures and the three \ases hears tiie same coustrucf ion : never- 
theless, 1 am sensible that n)any, even old masters, do ollitrwist; in handlin<; their 
reliriuf; objects, figures, trees, ofl-scape, and sky, more coarsely behind than forwards. 
I have even observed, that they close-hatch the nearest and darkest sky, and work 
wider and wider towards the horizon ; but this more in etching; than engraving ; 
possibly to save the trouble of using two or more needles, or of slopping ii(i, which 
is properly the point this example aims at: for I do not ask here, whether it creates 
more trouble, but shew what may possibly be thought of less nuMnent than in fact il 
is: for instance, I place the three figures. No. 1, 7, 3, ten or twehe steps apart : and 
at the same distance on the parapet, three va.ses, also numbered 1, '2, .3; whereby 
may be plainly perceived, how much the one differs from the ttther. But although 
in these figures the meaning is sufficiently to be understood ; to wit, that the liner 
they are, the more fine and close the strokes become ; yet I have added the vases 
to them, for the sake of those who may be curious enough to count the strokes : 
when they will find not a stroke more or less in the one than the other ; which in the 
figures would be tedious work. Observe, in the next place, the ground-shade of each 
figure against the parapet, each growing faint according to its distance, and with w hat 
certainty the accurate tints of the figures may be perceived thereon; even to know 
how much they diminish and grow finer ; and at the same time, how much the light 
differs. But let it not be thought sufficient, that the shades diminish or grow faint, 
and the white remains all over the light; since we know that tlie plan or ground can- 
not shew its level otherwise, than by means of light forwards, going ofl" darker arul 
darker: for instance, were a white figure or white stone standing forwards, and \vu 
would place such another further in, where the ground is darker, you must govern 
yourself by the ground where the first object slaiids, as being subject to the sauif' 
rule, if things be well finished. If the plan or ground be finished, the figures ought 
to be so likewise. Are they airily handled and broad-lighted ? the ground must he 
the same : and though the ground in its colour be more or less dark, yet that \9 not re- 
garded in this case; because we are speaking only of the diminution of the tints, 
consisting of white and black. Suppose the floor were of white marble, and the 
figures the same, or in white draperies ; the foremost would be broad lighted, and 
the more distant less and less white, were it even in sun-shine ; nay. if the light came 
from behind, or from aside, the most distant would only keep an utmost heightening, 
and still less, were the colours expressed in it ; as they who understand perspective 
well know : nor can it be otherwise, as may be seen in the first example in thtrhild s 
vol.. II. 2 m 



^0 Of Erigraxing. 

hand lioldiiijr the end of the liiiidmost spoke, which plahily appears to have little or 
DO wliiUiiess; and us for thestufls of the objects, aslitieii, cloth, and 8uch like, sonlo 
may rather think them possible to be so worked than the naked; because, having 
already engraved forwards as neat and fine as may be, Me can therefore further in, 
not express any tlnng finer or neater: but I say, that as things having the utmost 
neatness, do not become neater by distance, nor alter in the eye, butdisappear ; so, 
when the objects- are very remote, neither silk, linen, or woollen is to be distin- 
guished, so far as it concerns the hatching ; but the coarse parts always keep their 
forms: and this observation respects not only the three stiifls, but also figures, stones, 
grounds, trees, ice. Here some, perhaps, niay say, how can the strokes possibly 
unite the light, when they, as they retire, ought to be closer and closer, especially 
when the air, (which, on the horizon, is clear and bright and free from clouds) unless 
they widcR laore and more towards the horizon, were they never so faint? To which 
I answer, as experience will prove, that when the strokes thus thin and grow faint 
in their going ofl^ they certainly disappear and die away ; nay, become at last invisi- 
ble, and unite enough with the light, even were it snn-shine, though they be ever 
so close: and such a length 1 think the graver can go when skilfully managed. In 
etching, the needle can do the same by stopping up. 

However, I rpiestion not but my proposition will be taxed with impossibility and 
puzzling novelty, especially by such as are not thorough engravers, who may blame 
me lor thus disclosing the grounds of this noble art, and so plainly shewing truth : 
l)nt my answer in the first place, is, that I find myself obliged in duty to do so, since 
all ujy wishes tend towards its arriving at the greatest perfection. Secondly, be- 
cause what I lay down is prescribed by certain rules of the mathematics ; though 
few are sensible that the art of engraving in general flows from such principles, and 
that dirt'erent objects rerpiire diflierent handlings; but rather believe, that a good 
method of drawing will easily lead to engraving ; a notion true enough in etching, 
though even in that the point lies most in the biting and stopping out. As to en- 
graving, you must certainly be com-ersant with the handling and force of the gra- 
ver; two points not to be attained without great experience; though in the begin- 
ning it is better for an etcher to have no handling at all ; because he may then gra- 
dually the better bring the graver to the needle, and in an uniformity of strokes 
adapt the one to the other, and make them harmoniovis : whereas some, relying 
loo much on the graver, use it here and there in their slovenly works, without any 
difterence, and that with incredible carelessness ; sometimes cutting a foreground, 
stone, or stem of a tree, neat and smooth, which ought to be rough and knobby ; 
M hen at the same time they are working a face or marble figure with the needle. 



Of Eng7-aiing. 20? 

Tliiti imifit l>e ouiiift either to tlioir carelessness, or desire of ca:c, or their ignorante,. 
since sucii doings are uga.Lij.sl reason aiul common in«Uiictiun. 

I could mention inauy such disonJerly prints; among: others there is one of tl.e 
raising of Luxarus, done by Jieriy, wherein the rignre oi iMzanis, willi so nuuh oJ 
llie linen asconies about \m body, is etchrd, and the rest of the linen l\ing on lirf- 
ground, ue?ktly engraved, whei-eby'one part looks like linen, and the other like yilk ; 
the one is here aud there slipped, and the other is noL Jiut perhaps the plate was 
not well bit. It also sometimes happens, that we are obliged to rub out things 
which makes good my assertion: for, if the fault lie in the plate, the master ought, 
as much as possible, to help it by his knowledge aud judgment, ("ould he handle 
the graver. Why did he not shew it and make things agree ? And if he was not mas- 
ter of the graver, Why did he not better follow tlie strokes of the needle? Had he, 
instead of cro.s.s-hatching, made the strokes somewhat hmr and triple-hatched them, 
and used .some stipping, then it would have been pas.sable. 

There is another print, with an ornament round it, representing a sarrilice of 
Flora, or the Spring, which is also wretchedly etched and ingraved; for the fore- 
most tignres, as Charity, Piety, aud Time, and every thing else on the fore-ground, 
are neatly finished and mo.stly engraved ; but the figures on the secontl ground so 
slight and poorly etched, as not to have any agreement with tlie others ; the strokes 
even look as if they were dabbed on and drawn w ith a shaking hand, instead of grow- 
ing fainter every where, which would make the work neat and entire. This artist 
might have known, that he could not make the graver and the needle agree. 

I am sensible some will determine, that many things, such as water, siUer, gold, 
-swid such like smooth and shining bodies, can be more conveniently expressed with 
the graver than the needle; but, in my opinion, a skilful hand can give every thing 
its naturalness. 

It is very strange to me, in the old prints, that the masters have in nothing rcpje- 
sented the natural qualities, but etched every thing after one manner, whether nu- 
dities, draperies, air, grounds, or stone — except water ; and Vet not this with thin 
aud thick strokes, but only cross parallels, and those very unlike, oftentimes close, 
and then wide, as if they were scratched again, they have not expressed any colour, 
and always made the water dark and brown. Now, to create a difference in shining 
bodies, my thoughts are, that you first lay the strokes strong and parallel, aud of a 
reasonable width from each other, and then close them by putting thinner between ; 
I mean in w ater, black marble, polished steel, and such like ; for by this method 
we produce a <:ertaiu stir, shewing the smoothness and glitter. 

If it be asked. Why, in etching, the strokes which are close and thick sometimes 
fly up, though tlie plate be in good condition, and the ground neither burnt nor 

2m 2 



268 Of Engraving. 

too hard ? I answer, that I have found by experience, that when the wafer is too 
strong, and at iirsi bites too sharp, we must then take our chance ; because the 
plate being cold cannot grow warm so soon as the ground, which, therefore, is foi- 
cibly lifted from the plate and presently rises ; and the sooner if the strokes be close 
and thick ; which happens not so easily in the tender parts, where, by the thinness 
and width of the strokes, the water has not so much power to get under them. 
To prevent this, the water must be somewhat weakened, and the ground and plate 
graduallv made warm, in order to make them unite with each other; especially in 
cold weather: for in the warm months of June, July, and August, it is not neces- 
sary, because we then use harder grounds. 

Now to know whether the ground be in good condition, I make a scratch or two, 
with a large needle in a spare place of the plate ; and if the ground come out of the 
strokes like dust, it is then too hard ; but if in curls, it is in good temper, especially 
if you can blow them off. If they cannot be wiped off with a soft feather, but stick 
to the ground, it is then too soft. This is a nice point. It sometimes happened to 
me, that here and there they remained in the strokes. 

Some etchers also frequently give themselves needless trouble when they put out 
the outlines, which are made too strong on the light side, with stop-ground, which 
always flows more or less over them, especially if the place be hot: but consider 
what trouble they must afterwards have, when the outline is gone ; for they are 
obliged to renew with the graver all the strokes running against it. 

Wherefore, the best way is, to trace the drawing neatly on the plate, and mark at 
first softly with a small point, the dark touches, as those of the eyes, nose, and mouth, 
on the shaded side; yet not on the light. But to help them in stopping out their 
too strong strokes, I shall assign a better method than that of the stop-ground. 

Take thick-ground white lead, thinned with oil of turpentine, and spread it with a 
small pencil over the outline, so as just to cover it, and no farther: but, be very 
careful not to do it over more than once, lest you take off the ground ; for the oil af- 
terwards evaporates ; and in the biting, yon must also not wipe over it with the feather. 
This is an invention of a friend of mine; and, though I never experimented it, yet 
question not its success. J mention white lead ; but you may use any other colour 
that is light and plainly visible. 



of Eii^rav/jis:. 26'') 

CHAP. IX. 

or Tin. IJL.'VCK AKT, OJt .MKZZOTI VTO. 

L not'Gii no figure of this art is to be found in Ca:sar Itipa, as having been unknown 
to him; yet since in our times, througli its foundation laid by princes and the kind 
assistance oi {jreat men, it is arrived at so great perfection, I hope the foliouiu^ 
figure will not be unacceptable to the professors and lovers of it. 

Figxtre of the Black Art, or Mezzotinto. 

Here you see a young and plump virgin, of a fresh complexion and amiable coun- 
tenance, dressed in black velvet, lined and faced with sky-blue, powdered witiigold 
glittering stars. She has a broad gold girdle embroidered witli black bats, which 
diminish towards the arms. Her head attire is wanton and modish, adorned here 
and there with small flowers. About her neck is a gold chain, to which hangs a me- 
dal, exhibiting a burning altar, and these words, MAGNtE BRITANNIiE. In her 
right hand is a small tool, like a lancet, together with a feather; and in the left a 
table, whereon is painted a head on a black ground, representing Nature. She 
poises airily on one leg, as if she were dancing. 

Explanation. 

The Art is represented young and plump, to signify, that she is still growing. 
The black velvet gown and stars imply that, like the stars, she is sprung from 
dark night. The golden girdle and bats give us to understand, that though her 
productions are not very lasting, yet she makes great gains. The chain with the 
medal and altar thereon, proclaims her lustre; and the words round it allude to 
an ofTeriug of thanks to Great Britain, to whom she owes her origin and glory. 
The table, with the figure of Nature shews, that she excels therein. The rest ex- 
plains itself. 



270 Of Engraving. 

\Vhy this beautiful figuit- btars tlio name of tlie Black Art I never heard, tlioug'h 
her practice sufliciently gives us tlie reason, wiiieh is, that she proceeds from 
black. And though the art of etching also seems to be derived from black, 
yet it is done in tpiite a different manner; for the former conies forth from 
the light, and the latter from the shade; the one heightens, and the other sha- 
dows. 

AVe have already said that etching is in speed superior to engraving; but mez- 
zotinting is more expeditious than either of them; and in neatness has not its fel- 
low : it may even compare with a painting, how soft and fluent soever, abating 
for the colours. Indeed, in duration and wear it is the weakest ; but, on the other 
hand, its expeditiousness brings in more money. 

This noble art is preferable to any engraving in representing uncommon liglrts^ 
as candle, torch, lamp, lire, and tiie like : w herefore, I think it does not impro- 
perly bear the name of the black art. It is remarkable not to be above fifty years 
standing, and yet is arrived at so great perfection ; those other arts have required 
more time. But Eiiglmid, where the climate is healthful and temperate, has con- 
tributed much to its neatness and lustre. There it had its birth and furtherance: 
for prince Rupert* gave us the first example. Wherefore we may rightly style it 
noble. The first print I saw of this prince wa.s of an old man s head, with a cloth 
about it, taken, as far as I know, from an Italian painting. It was designed so fine 
and great, and broad handled, as if washed with the pencil of the best master: 
it even looked, by reason of the natural softness or melting, not to be less than 
black art. The same prince also imented a certain metal bearing his name, which 
it will retain for ever. 

I doubt not but this art will in time become a delightful diversion to painters, for 
three reasons. One for its easiness in learning ; two, for its neatness ; and, lastly, 
for its conveniency. 

1. It is easily learned, by any one who is accustomed to draw on groimded or 
blue paper; because there is no difference in operation between the scraping on the 
jjlate and heightening on the grounded paper, beginning with the greatest light, and 
sparing the shade; as we have shewed in our drawing-book, touching the handling 
of crayons or chalk pencils. Wherefore I affirm, that it comes nearer to a painting 
than etching or engraving. And it is so easily apprehended, I mean in theory, as 
tQ be leai'ued in less than three days. 



The celebrated relative and general of our unfortunaie first Charles. — E. 



Of Engraving. 'J71 

2. It is neat and free from soil niid yiiit'U ; uh nut requiring cither a iHtop-grouiKl, 
grease, or acjiiii' furtia. 

Lastly, tlieconvcuienoy arising from it may be easily conjectured ; as it i>i u»or« 
expeditions llian eitlier etching or en;;ravin{j. ' 

But n)any are so eaj^er in this art to learn neat scrapinjj, as to neglect the [iriucipal 
part, the outline, which they often over-run and cannot lie hrou;!;ht rif^^lit aj^ain ; and 
Avhen correct design is wanting in a plate or print, vvliat judicious pertion will ap- 
prove it? Indeed, Me cannot manage here as in etching, where the outline may !>e 
traced on the plate w ilh a needle ; for the white sometimes goes out, or is so faint as 
scarce to be seen ; besides, it is in(H)nvenient to serajic figures against a light grouiul ; 
though artists generally used to work the figure first, and then the hack-ground 
behind it. Now, to prevent this inconvenience, first scrape your back-ground, anil 
spare the outline ; rather keeping a little out froni it till the figure be finished: 
afterwards yon may gently scrape nearer. Thus you will not so easily run over the 
outline as when you begin with the figure. 

There is a great difference between the etching, engraving, and scratching of 
painters and that of engravers; for the former making it only their diversion, do not 
finish things so very highly as the latter, who have been brought u[) therein, and 
make it their constant business. Painters are satisfied with shewing otdy good de- 
sign and general decorum ; because, when they were neatly to finish one plate, they 
can work another. 

This art is certainly easy to a person of good knowledge : but if the work be not 
light enough at first, go over it ai second time. Indeed, you must not think to finish 
up at once, because, till a proof be taken, you cannot possibly know what condition 
your plate is in. Do like the painters, first to dead-colour with broad parts, and then 
finish. Now, having a proof, you can give the work its main heightnes-s, and 
thus with patience finish every part ; a point requiring neither much time nor study, 
but a little observation. There is published a print of a little satyr, which in an 
hour's time I scraped loose in my hand, as I walked in a garden ; and, after a proof 
taken, finished in another hour. Few learn this art ; because, as I think, they can- 
not be persuaded how easy it is, and with what few circumstances attended. But 
should amateurs set about it, we may possibly in time see it become too common, 
and etching and engraving neglected; I mean, in objects peculiar to the black 
art, such as portraits, night and candle-pieces, spectres and enchantments, appari- 
tions, flowers, fruits, silver, gold, china-ware, crystal, arms, and herbs. Who will 
be able to etch or engrave those things so perfect and natural as they can be scraped 
but in figure, architecture, bass-reliefs, and landscape, the art is weak, and not at 
all so proper as engraving. 



272 Of Engraving. 

It is a great pity, that both this beautiful art and the artist have so bad a name, as 
if the one were witchcraft, and the other a magician, tliougli nothing but mere works 
of art. I long to hear what name the Italians will give it. The French and English, 
agreeable to the Dutch, call it — the former, FArt noire — and the latter the black art. 
An improper and unnatural name, unless they mean first, that the artist works the 
light out of the black ground ; and in the next place, to distinguish it from etching 
and engraving. 



THE END. 



J. ¥. DOVE, Printer, St. John's Sqnarc, I.oiHon. 



CONCLUSION BY THE EDITOR, 



2 N 



READERS AND STUDENTS 



OF THE PRECEDING EXCELLENT 



TREATISE OF GERARB BE LAIRESSE. 



I WISH now to address some observations, that may guide the judgment of one 
class, and the practice of the other. This Treatise, the best that has yet been 
produced, is written with vigour and perspicuity, explaining and advocating the 
practices and intentions of imitative arts on the solid principles of common sense ; 
the only basis on which any one can hope to raise an useful and permanent fabric. It 
is truie, he 4ias occasionally made use of the fanciful term genius, and that, too, 
with a degree of complacency; but he has not attempted to throw round it that 
splendour of peculiar privilege, with which the successful in art are ever solicitous 
to emblazon their names. I have done no more, on the present occasion, than to 
supervise the former English translation, which I found to be very scarce ; and I 
had repeatedly recommended it in my Lectures at the Royal Institution, as the best 
work on art that my auditors could consult. 

The progress which has been made since the time of Gerard de Lairesse, in the 
philosophy, or rather the common sense, of the arts, seemed to require from an 
editor of his excellent Avork, some view of the subject, that might bring it down to 
tlje present state of opinion and judgment. In concluding, I shall endeavour to 

2 N 2 



276 Concluding Essay, ^r. 

give you the strongest possible motives for exertion in cultivating particularly the 
Arts of Drawing and Painting, convinced, as I have long been, that a successful 
cultivation of them is essential to the vital interests of this country. Thus, then, 
the professed artists, the dilettante, and the connoisseur, may each make his amuse- 
ment, or profession, the support or the glory of his native land. 

I will proceed, now, to the observations which I wish to impress upon your 
minds. 

The first principle of painting, it should ever be remembered, is, that it pro- 
fesses to imitate, by means of colours applied upon an uniform surface, appear- 
ances that have been, now are, or that might be, in nature. This first principle, 
however, positive and indispensable as it is, must be accompanied by some in- 
junctions and precautions. The painter who depicts, without exception, every 
tiling in nature as it comes before him, will be always natural, but never ele- 
gant ; the painter, who paints from his mind only, will be generally affected or 
extravagant, but never natural. Let us examine the cause. Objects in nature, 
though subject to an Universal Providence, are yet liable to various accidents, 
which deteriorate from their proper colours and forms. A tree, growing in a 
favouring soil, will shoot constantly upright, will spread its leafy branches equally 
round it, and will seem like a proud ornament on the bosom of nature ; but, if it 
be subject in its growth to the effect of prevalent winds, it will incline from the 
powerful attack, and throw its verdant foliage to the other side: or a tree, too 
closely pressed by neighbours, even of its own kind, seems to refuse society, and 
puts out its leafy honours in an opposite direction. A rock may be split, thrown 
or driven from its original character, though seemingly the least alterable of nature's 
materials. But tliat part of nature, most liable to deviations from its original 
structure, is the human frame. Climates, governments, habits of thinking, occu- 
pations, accidents — all tend to induce occasional and frequent modifications of that 
beautiful form, which God first, for his own honour, impressed upon man. In some 
countries, women press the noses of their children to make them flat ; in others, 
females hang heavy weights to their own ears, to make them grow down to the 
shoulders; in other countries, again, the feet are crippled to a diminutive size; 
and all these because it is there thov<ght beautiful. But, leaving mere prejudices, 



Concluding Essai/, <jr. 277 

wc will look only to the deteriorations of human form, which arisf from hahits ami 
employmculs. The sailor, arjd the waterman who rows, will have largo arms and 
shoulders, with comparatively small legs and feet, because the upper parts of th*' 
figure are chiefly used in their pursuits; the porter, who is accustomed to support 
and to move under great weights, will have large legs and wide spread feet; tli'» 
smith, who is continually wielding a weighty hammer in his right hand, will ha\e 
that hand and arm considerably larger than the left, which is not called upon for 
similar exertions. Accidents and affectations have also their share in injuring the 
beauty of human forms. 

The result of these observations to you, will, I trust, be a conviction, that to 
paint ani/ man, or any woman, that may be presented to the practitioner, Mould 
not ensure the production of a beautiful picture. Here, then, we come to the im- 
portant fact, that the student must learn to select that which is perfect or beautiful 
in nature from that which has been deteriorated, whatever might he the cause ; 
otherwise he must confine himself to paint only such combinations as necessarily 
belong to the figures he can set before him. But, it will readily be asked, what 
certain guide is there to direct in this selection of the beautiful from the imperfect 
in nature? Some enthusiasts will tell you, that it is by a careful study of the an- 
tique statues ; but these, though fine, have, alas ! like all other works of human 
hands, their imperfections too. There is, however, a much higher standard to aid our 
researches on this point. Beauty in visible objects is, so far as it goes, a manifesta- 
tion of the excellence of the Creator ; and our perception of it is a sympathetic 
consciousness of our affinity to that perfect Being, of whom the human soul is an 
emanation ; and, consequently, in proportion as the human mind is purified and 
sublimed, it wdl become more susceptible to those indications of divine perfection, 
which, in created forms, we call beauty. Writers on this subject have divided this 
property into two kinds ; first, the beauty of utility, or the fitness of an object to 
its end ; and, next, the ornamental beauty of form ; but it is all )-esolvable to the 
same principle. The first is the wisdom of God, exemplified in his arrangements, 
which we delight to see ; the latter, in human nature, is the image of God, which 
we delight to love. On this ground, then, we are enabled to combat the diffi- 
<-^iiUies that have puzzled many of the essayists on the subject, from their observ- 



-78 Concluding Essay, ^-c. 

ing that the rude inhabitants of Asia, of America, of Africa, of the South Sea 
Islands, have all a different standard for what they deem beautiful. But, where 
the mind is sunk in gross sensuality and ignorance, it has little or no power to 
perceive beauty, and therefore sets up something or other for its admiration, as 
chance or caprice may direct. If we look at the different states of Europe, where 
civilization has made the greatest advances, where intellect has been cultivated and 
sentiment greatly refined, we shall discover that there is but little variation in their 
notions of personal beauty ; because they have advanced, considerably, towards 
that point of improved intellect, which admits the sympathetic perception of God's 
excellence. This is no new doctrine, or hypothesis. The same ideas, on this sub- 
ject, were suggested as long ago as the splendid reign of Queen Elizabeth, by our 
fairy poet Spenser, in his Hymn to the Honour of Beauty. 

How vainly then do idle wits invent. 

That Beauty is nought else but mixture made 

Of colours fair, and goodly temperament 
Of pure complexion, that shall shortly fade 

And pass away, like to a summer shade ; 
Or that it is but comely composition 
Of parts well measur'd, vvitli meet disposition. 

Hath white and red in it such wondrous pow'r, 

That it can pierce through eyes into the heart. 
And therein stir such rage and restless tow'r, 

As only death can stint the dol'rous smart? 
Why do not then the blossoms of the field, 

vSo fairly dress'd in much more brilliant huCi. 
And to the sense most dainty odours yield. 

Work like impression on the looker's view ? 

But perhaps you will not regret to have this important part of the subject ex- 
«-niplificd still further, with regard to human beauty. Symmetry, or the relative pro- 
portion of |)art to part, is a portion of beauty which may be found in a statue, if 
file workman had sufficient skill to copy the wonderful symmetry of perfect nature; 



Concluding Essay, ^c. g^r) 

«nd yet this, even this symmetry, with the powerful addition ofromploxion to r,.- 
force it, we are told — 

" Soon grows familiar to the lover, 
who begins with doating on it; 

" Fades on the eye, 
*' And palls upon the sense." 

But where expression is superadded, the very tendency of which is to destroy 
symmetry, the spectator is struck, pierced, and delighted. He feels in every part of 
his intellectual powers an immediate and sympathetic acknowledgment of the di- 
Ttne origin of the soul. Let me beg leave, here, to refer to your own particular 
experience on this subject. You well know how beautiful English females in 
general are; but yet many, notwithstanding, have met with «ome of our country- 
women who have no elegant conformation of features, no ivory forehead, or bloom- 
ing cheek, and altogether such as you would have passed with perfect indifference • 
yet, when you have spent some time in their society, you have left them with regret 
have wished for the occasion when you might return to them, and have had a 
general impression on your minds, that if they were not quite beautiful, they were 
at least something very nearly approaching to it. This is nothing more than the 
approximating of soul to soul; but the practical inference to be drawn from it is, 

that though expression may destroy symmetry where it exists, it may also induce 
to give symmetry where it did not exist before. 

Thus, then, expression may be considered as the first part of personal beautv 
permanent symmetry,, or proportion, as the most important part; and colour, 'or 
complexion, as almost equal to symmetry, because it has charms in itself, and 
because it conduces greatly to expression. Our great poet of nature was Mell 
aware of this, when he said— 

The life blood 
Stood in her face, and so divinely wrought, 
One would almost have said her body thought. 



280 Concluding Essay, ^-c. 

This principle of selecting tlio perfect parts of individuals, in order to form a per- 
fect human model, was perceived and acted upon by the Greeks. Polignotus col- 
lected a number of the most beautiful maidens his country could afford, and from 
their perfections deduced those measures of proportion for female beauty, which af- 
terwards obtained the pre-eminent denomination of tfie Rule, and which have since 
been followed in all sculptures of feminine figures. From these observations, we 
derive three of the most important principles of drawing and of painting ; viz. 
that the object of these arts is to imitate visible nature; that with vulgar minds, it 
will consist in imitating well, whatever kind of nature may chance to come in the 
artist's way : that the perfection of these arts consists in imitating well the selected 
beauties of nature, and that to be able to make the selection, the mind of the prac- 
titioner must be highly refined and sublimated, as an intellectual, a spiritual being. 
Next, we find a principle existing in human nature, to which the artist must address 
himself invariably, in order to complete success in his exertions — it is the desire of 
novelty. The finest model of human perfection, even the lovely statue of Venus at 
Florence, strikes, delights, enchants on a first view, on a second, and perhaps on 
a third ; but, after that, the spectator's mind silently assents to its perfections, and 
if you could suppose it permanently placed in the sitting room of any dilettante, 
however exquisite his taste, you may conclude that he would soon regard it with in- 
difference. This thirst for novelty has been charged by various essayists upon 
human nature, as a species of depravity ; but philosophers seldom speak of human 
nature, but as a refractory something, which they cannot bend to their systems, 
and therefore quarrel with it on every occasion. The fact unquestionably is, that 
this perpetual eagerness for something neio is no other than a panting of the soul 
dider fresh, or more indications of the Deity from whom it emanates, and of whose 
perfection beauty is the evident sign. However, as this feeling exists, the painter 
must apply himself to gratify it, which he must do in his works by variety, or modi- 
fied intricacy of arrangement, which the spectator does not immediately develope. 

Variety has three modes of displaying itself; in forms, in tones, and in colours: 
the first of these belongs to drawing, and the other two to painting — and all are 
under an irresistible influence from the number three, which some would be inclined 
to call mysterious. The triangle, in its various modifications, exhibits more variety 



Concludinif Kssai/, <jc. 281 

than any otlior form of so simple construction. Tlio oval, or cpjg shapr;, is tlio curva- 
ture of (lie triangle, and is tlio (.■Ic-j.ant principle of female forms ; the most beautiful 
in all llic works of creation. The scpiarc, or cnhe, go\(rMS the Cuini ol' in;in ; the 
circle, or ijlohe, the forms of children; and, as the one \\;i> all IIn anfjles, and all 
its sides alike, and the other has all its parts efiually distant from a common centre, 
it is evident that little or no variety can be drawn from either, simply as elements of 
forms, l^iil, besides the adoption of the triangle as a lirst cIciikuI of variety, it i.s 
necessary to avoid the fre((uent recurrence of parallel forms even of this kind ; for 
the principle, if soon repeated, is inunediately divulged, and the effect totally lost. 

This princij)le also demands the rejection of a nundjer of parallel lines, and I am 
the more solicitous to impress this strongly upon your consideration, because (he 
contrary practice has the authority of most of the antique bass relief sculptures, 
and because the French School of Painting, affecting, under its late emperor, every 
thing like Grecian or Roman feeling, long adopted these antique sculptures as the 
criterion of excellence, and as the most j)raise-worthy objects of imitation. 

Variety, as arising from tones, or the quantity and degree of light in a picture, 
has been very ably regulated by a celebrated artist. He prescribes that one foTirth 
of a picture should be given to the highest light ; one fourth to the extreme dark 
and the remaining half he thinks should be devoted to the inezzotones, or half tones: 
yet, if this be taken according to strict sense, it will lead to unfortunate results. 

But in the distribution of these quantities of light and dark, the triangle, or the 
principle of three, comes in aid of our difficulties. The quarter of the picture allot- 
ted to high light should be divided into three parts, and should be distribute<I at the 
points of a supposed irregular triangle, each differing from the other in extent, or in 
brilliancy. It has been the custom of most painters, and particularly those of the 
present day, to put the most considerable of these lights in, or near, the centre of 
the picture : this, however, has not been an universal practice. Claude Lorraine 
in general, made the upper half of his pictures light, and the lower half dark ; and 
Rembrandt iVeqiienlly placed his principal light near the tojj of his compo>;ition • 
seldom allowing more than the sixteenth of his extent for bright light. Bv surli 
practices, it nuist be observed, particular purposes are obtained, but they must 

2 o 



'282 Conchtdins; Essn)/, i^c. 

ho rdiisithnd only as deviations from a j^enenil jji-inciplc. The next part of 
Paititiiii;, in wliich variety is to hi; studied and exhihitwi, is colours; eonsistiiig 
of thn>e rt'hitivi,' priiirij)h's — quaHty, kind, and distiihution ; for hrre a;i>ain the 
triangle has a predominating- influence. I'here are three primitivr ciiloxrs, blue, 
red, and yellow ; three compound colours, orange, green, and puri)le : the 
three first of these in nature ])roduee, Avhen united, light, or nhite ; their three 
representatives in ait produce bimk, \vhen mixed together. For the ])urp()se of 
painting, these colours have difi'crent j)roperties, which it will be necessary here 
to notice, thotigh not arising out of the principle of vauiety. Blue represents 
distance, or whatever has a decided portion of blue for one of its elenxMits, has 
a tendency to retire into the picture. Red, and yellow, or whatever tint strongly 
partakes of these colours, will seem to a])proach the spectator ; but red has this 
tendency greatly more than yellow : red also has a peculiar property in paint- 
ing, which must be noticed, and which must be tieasinvd up in the minds of 
those who mean to practice, lied, l)y its power to irritate the organ of sight, has 
the power to attract attention in a picture, or to act as a light ; while its tone rela- 
tively, Avith other parts of the performance, may be made to act as a dark. Some 
of the great masters in colouring have most ably availed themselves of the double 
property possessed by this colour. To proceed, if any colour appear once only 
in a picture, it becomes distinct, insulated, and disagreeable : it should therefore 
be revived, or made to reajipear in some parts of the work twice ; each portion 
being inferior in extent to the first mass of that colour which attracts notice, and 
one of the two subordinates also to the other : these three portions of the same 
colour should invariably have a triangular arrangement, and if the picture be to 
exhibit the high finishing of true representation, each jjortion of the colour should 
have its own distribution on the same principle, in its inunediate vicinity by re- 
flection, or other means. Of this principle, no one availed himself more con- 
stantly and effectually than Rubens: in his light pictures almost all the beauty 
arises from distribution. 

There is in colours, as displayed by nature, a principle of opposition, and also 
of union, which the painter must study attentively, on accoimt of the great defi- 
ciency of his materials, to imitate almost any thing that can be set before him. 



Coiicliidina: Rssaif, /^c. 283 

Liiiflit, wliidi is the j»riiuary cause of {.oloiir iit olijcrts, kIicwh, wlnri tlLCOiiiposed, 
that it has coiisistc'd of thrci; compouiHl colours; Imt, hi.wcvcr frequently you 
may make llie oxpcriuKiil of this (hconiposilioii, you will ikm r DikJ ihe simple 
colours, the red, y<llo\v, or l»lue, iu coutael with each other : they are iuvarialtly 
couuected by their couipouuds hocouiiug iuteruiediates. 'I'hus, lictweeu red and 
blue, y<Mi will have jnaple; bitweeii blue aud yellow, green; and between red ancl 
yellow, ovdiigc. 'J'iie adoption of this principle in works of art, will always pro- 
duce what is technically called /uinnoiij/ : i»ut, if the primitive or himjtie colours 
could be brought together, the result would be a (jainful discordance, by each 
making- the eflect of the other more violent: yet the painter is freipienlly obliged to 
employ the aid of this power of contrast, because he has no niateriuls, which bear 
any kind of ))roportion to the splendid /tius in the commonest efltcts of nature, 
liut this aid u)usl be used with extreme caution, and always with reference, and 
subject to the principle of intermediates, or harmony will be eflectually desti'oyed. 
It is true, however, that if the painter have any strong motive for making any object, 
or any jiart of an object, so attractive as to command attention, he may always ef- 
fect it by bringing two masses of primitive colour together, as he mai/ also, by bring- 
ing the strongest positive dark close to his brightest light. 

These are the great principles which influence the practices of painting ; and the 
next point is for you to consider well the subject you w ould wish to select, for the 
purpose of displaying your acquirements iu this art. The choice of subjects for 
pictures will always govern the tinal impression to be made by them ; and, though 
great talents may daz/lo and surprise even the considering spectator in the skilful 
management of an ill-chosen subject, yet good choice of subject, suitableness of ac- 
cessories, and concurring combinations of forms, colours, and tones, are all iiidiipeitr- 
sable toeflTectbUch an impression on the mind, as will make painting a really useful 
art. Every picture, therefore, should conduce to some purpose of moral or intel- 
lectual good ; and it is thus that I propose to treat the discussion, beginning with 
Laadscape, though an inferior branch in tliis art. 

I presume the artist to have his mind so well stored with objects of every kind, 
di.stinclly impressed by accurate delineations, that he can at any time produce tliem 
with a degree of tidelity little short of his first studies, and which stale of luiud Jias 

•2 o 2 



2B4 Cn)ic/ii(linp; Essai/, ('^•c. 

Itecii kept np 1»\ an (Kcasioiial recurrence to nature. Such an artist in landscape, 
sitting- down to paint a picture, will consider iirst, wlieflier it shall he cheerful, or 
iirave, auAilly iin|)ressive, or sportively elef^ant. lie will then lliul tlie i^icat advan- 
tai;e of cla>sing his ideas under some general luad, and we will suppose this classiti- 
<-ation to he (lie rural, the elegant, and the grand. The hrst of these will embrace 
the pursuits of agriculture, the occupations, habits, and postures of cottage maids 
an<l swains: and the faithful services of domestic, irrational animals to their reason- 
ing lord. The jilonghed field, the farm-yard, the lowing kine collecting for the dex- 
trous hands of the milk-maid, w ill become important f"(^;itures in such cond)inations : 
these open the heart to a contemplation of the usefuhiess of rural labours, and lead 
the wealthy, who live in cities and great towns, to wish for a participation in pur- 
suits, which bring health of body, and tranquillify of mind. But, if the painter 
would go further than these, let him represent the vigorous husbandman, at the 
dawn of morning, t( aching his ruddy children to trim and traiu up the flagrant 
shrubs that cling round his cottage; or let him pourtray the venerable senior of 
some little hamlet, seated at the close of evening under a spreading oak, exciting the 
youth and maids of the neighbourhood to healthful pastimes, and distributing, with 
his labour-furrowed hands, rewards to the most successful. Yet, let me seriously 
Avarn the painter of subjects in this class, not to contaminate his surface, and debase 
his talents, with depicting the licentious revelry, and the unseemly excesses of 
drunken boors and profligate women ; for if he should, and succeed after years of 
incessant labour and study, in representing these with a degree of truth that seems 
perfectly illusive, he will only have done that which every real friend of human na- 
ture or of the art would wish never to have seen, or not to have remembered. You 
will perceive here, that I mean particularly to allude to the pictures of Teniers, 
who possessed as much dexterity in painting, jjrobub/i/, as any one who ever exist- 
ed. Endeavour to retrace in your minds the subjects of all the performances by this 
master, and you will not be able to bring back one that is not characterized by such 
a general coarseness of subject, or polluted by such unseemly incidents, as ought to 
prevent them from being hung in apartments where females assemble. To paint 
such things is to pervert the most sublime art that ever engaged the faculties 
of man. 



C.din Indni'j; Essaii, t^v. 20.5 

liiitllicro is 11 consi(lcia(i(tii disliiut I'loiii nil otlurs lii:il MtjiiM had iiiiuiy to tlic 
choice of Ruiiil Landscape, (or (lie nrlisl's studies and excrtioiis. The proper 
scenes, with tlieir accessories :Mid :ip|)eiMiiiu,t >, I'lirni^h incessant occ;i>ioii for that 
rouglniess and incr|nalify of surface which leads to [)ictiires(|tie expression in paint- 
ing. — A cottage nearly falling to pieces, Ijnt snstain< d l)\ some rnde props ; a piece 
of shattered railing ; a thatched roof co\ t red Mitli moss and ivy ; the ill-marked 
pathway throngii a green lane: or, a carriage road cnt into deep furrows — all fur- 
nish admiral)le materials for the pencil. Indeed, it has been most happily remarked, 
by an accomplished gentleman and artist of the present day, that things generally 
become picturesque, in proportion as they become imiit for the purposes to which 
tlicy were destined. 

The elegant, to wliich we may next turn in land'^cape subjects, is the kind of 
scenery in which nature has been forced by skilful hands to spread her beauties 
over the domains of opulence and lasfe. These should always be go\erned by a 
principle of conciliation between art and nature, and should therefore set out with 
displaying the most artificial contrivances near tlie mansion, which is their centre 
of nrt, and should gradually abate its appearance in favour of untutored nature, as 
the domain approaches the surrounding country. But the advantages you will 
have in drawing unAjndnting such scenes, are the delightful records they will give 
you in distant years, when the scenes themselves are no longer the same, of some 
moment of particular sentinnnt dear to the heart, of some important conclusion 
invaluable to the judgment. I woidd, therefore, most earnestly recommend you 
to make drawings of all the situations of this kind, which have given addition to 
your store of intellectual gratifications. I wish to impress this particularly on the 
younger practitioners in art; for they are most interested in its results. The senti- 
ment which has been so excited, even by momentary circumstances, as to occasion 
a pnre unsophisticated joy in the heart, should be diligeiitly recorded by such faith- 
ful delineations as correct drawing and painting may afford ; that delighted memory 
may live them over again, and genuine sentiment improve by the repeated con- 
templation. 

The grand in landscape necessarily requires large and massy forms, and broad 
shadows; and, where indefinite obscurity can be admitted, the effect is greatly 



286 Concludinii Essaif, <\'-c. 

increased hy a sort of iiK|uirv and solicitude, \vliicli are excited in tlie spectator. I 
fear we have not much in this country that can furnish subjects for the grandest 
kind of hmdscape ; because, where the mountains are grandly precipitous, they 
are generally bare; and where their sides are covered with wood, they slope away 
and recede so gradually, that iiuvgiiitude disa])pears. The most perfect scenery 
for these purposes which 1 have yet seen in Britain, is certainly to be found on the 
road between Dolgelle and Barmoulli, and on the first four miles of the road from 
Dolgelle to Bala in Merionethshire. But you will observe in the management of 
grand subjects of landscape, that if your means as to reality will not furnish you 
with those imposing masses w hicli are necessary to grandeur, you can obtain it to a 
certain degree by supposing the sun near the horizon, for morning or evening light, 
and thus exclude details which are inimical to simple ettects. But you w ill leel in 
all these subjects the indispensable necessity of adhering most strictly to all the 
correctnesses of representation required by the kind of light and sliadnw which you 
have first assumed. You will also have to consider, that as magnitude, so essential 
to the grand in painting, can only be implied in our limited dimensions, we must 
contrive, in various points of every picture, to introduce some object of which the 
size is well known, that it may serve as a scale of measurement to establish the size 
of that which would have no grandeur without it, as having no ascertainable mea- 
surement or iixed proportion. The accessories in landscapes of the grand kind, are 
sudden convulsions of atmosphere, eartlKjuakes, avalanches, and inundations. 
But in the highest subjects of this class, an overwhelming solemnity must be iniplied, 
or a vastness of extent, or an awiidly-inipendiiig danger, the result of which is not 
evident to the spectator. 

In your choice of subjects for pictures of figures, you have a much wider range, 
but involving a much higher responsibility in those who undertake nil its branches, 
and rt '(uiring a state of liighly purified intellecl, as well as a great stock of accumu- 
lated information, 1 have stated already, that some eyes see colours diflerently from 
other eyes; I have shewn that habit may induce our insensibility to particular co- 
lours, and thence inferred the ditlicnlty of painting even a single figure, so that it 
should generally be called well : but when the object proposed is to combine 
figures in a picture for accomtilishing the highest purposes of this sublime art, it 



('oiir/iK/iiiii F.ssnii, <5t'- 287 

cprt;iiuly rcfiuirrs liii;liov faciilticH of iiiiiid tliaii any other piirstiit in whirli man ran 
cugat;t\ IJiil as il may not suit (lie rrdivcnicncc c)f cvaij dug to puisne (liis })ranch 
of tin; art to its liic;li(st point, I will \\v'^ icaxe to divide it into classes, in tin- hope 
that every leader of this work will tak<' up one at least. 'I'he rM/a/ style iti fif^ures 
is thehest siiili d for general pracliee, htcanse the siihjeels are always at liand, and 
because a small dt'i^reo of discernment will serve to select the good from the worse. 
If these subjects descend into llie familiar, and aii' not governed by strict dis- 
cretion, they become parallel, in point of choice, with the low and vulgar pictures of 
Tenicrs, Ostade, and Brawer, as 1 have stated already, which nothing would induce 
us to tolerate, but the exquisite truth of imitation with which the objects are ren- 
dered to the spectator. In rural subjects children present themselves first to the 
attention of the lady artist. Their unrestrained playfulness, their ruddy facc^?, their 
scarcely-covered limbs, all convey impressions associated to the sweet^'st feelings of 
the heart, while the accompaniments of cottage steps, broken banks, styles, gates, 
hovels, and rustic apartments — all ofler materials for that sportiveness of pencil, 
which we have just called picturesque. These I recommend particularly for your 
early practice from nature; for, thus while you gain dexterity of hand, you will 
gradually imbibe a tender susceptibility to the simple beauties of unsophisticated 
humanity. 

You have numerous characters and incidents of a most interesting kind in those 
figures advanced to maturity, and all at your doors, or easily within your com- 
mand. You have the joyous village pouring out its numbers in the dawn of a har- 
vest morning ; you have the weary labourer at sultry noon, reclining in some shade, 
and enjoying his homely refreshments ; or the tender mother sitting under the shadow 
of piled up sheaves, in order to give to her tired infant the delicate nutriment with 
which liealth and exercise have amply supplied her for its support. If still you go 
further into the open field, glowing with summer heat, you will find ample subject 
for the rural pencil. In early season, the hay-cart, with the labours and frolics of 
those who attend it ; in ripened harvest it will offer you 

" The rustic nymph, brown with meridian toil,"' 



288 Concluding Essay, ^-c. 

labouring- equally ^vitll llio youtli who courts her favour: if you should prefer the 
calm still hour, when 

" Meek twilight slowly sails, and waves her banners grey," 

you will have the plotighman trudging his weary May homewards, or arriving at his 
cottage door, where the busy housewife hastens to meet him, and when 

" Children run to lisp their sires return, 

" Or elin)b his knee the envied kiss to share." 

In these cursory observations, tending to point out rural subjects of Jigurcs for 
your study and imitation, I confess I have chosen British scenes and British ideas 
only, from a conviction, that iu tliis highly-favoured land alone, we must look for 
liapi)y aud independent rustics. But, before 1 conclude my observations on this 
part of the discussion, I must warn you against the common practice of painting 
evei-y rustic, man, woman, or child, with what is called a 7«-e</_y_/J«ce. That is, 
large eyes, red simpering lips, red cheeks, and a (irecian nose. There is beauty 
enough every where in this land ofpersonal beauty, without having recourse to such 
Arcadian aflectation. But those who have travelled in this kingdom, will not have 
failed to observe, that there is a form and characteristic of figure w hich is peculiar 
to certain districts, and which should therefore be ])rescr\ cd in your representations 
when they are intended to be local. This is so very distinct in some ([uarters as to be 
scarcely credible. In approaching the borders of Cumberland, by (he road of Am- 
bleside, you will find the men broad and stout, and tjie females tall and slender; 
but the moment you pass the boundary, on the summit of Dunmail Raise, you will 
find the men tall and linely formed, and tiie women plump, healthy, and blooming. 

The beaulij'id is tlie next class to which I would wish to direct your attention, 
and in this you will feel yourselves particularly at hOme. Its objects will always 
be to display the beauty, the graces, the embellishments, the sensibilities of po- 
lished life iu different nations. All the acts of well-regulated benevolence, all the 



Concluding Essay, 4c. 289 

results of refined domestic duty, involving filial and parental affbction and soliri- 
tude, furnish materials for pictures of this class. Violent emotions must always 
be rejected from it, and nothing admitted but what will soothe, instruct, or delight 
the spectator. Elegantly-decorated apartments will generally be the scenes of 
such occurrences as you would select, on these occasions, or such tastefully-con- 
trived landscapes as bloom round the mansions of opulence and dignity. All these 
considerations would lead me to say, that the beautiful in painting is particularly 
suited for the practice of British ladies and British artists. The loveliness of ray 
country-women renders them models for study, greatly beyond what the highest 
efforts of art will ever be able to imitate adequately, while their exquisite delicacy 
of thought and highly-cultivated minds will enable them, better than any other 
females in the world, to express and produce those subjects which they so much 
better can feel. But as elegance and grace are indispensable qualities in most 
compositions of this class, I may be permitted to explain what is properly under- 
stood by those terms. Elegance is that union of lines and dimensions, never bulky, 
which produces intricacy and agreeable contrast of lines in objects, twt moving. 
Grace is the same results arising invariably out of the maytner of motion. Milton 
has most correctly observed this distinction in his highly poetical description of 
our first mother ; " Grace was in all her steps." Thus it appears, that a person 
may be elegant who is not graceful, and that gracefulness of motion will not 
always resolve itself into elegance, when in a quiescent state. To either of 
these qualities, as affecting the general arrangement of figure, the manner of 
dress may greatly contribute. You will, therefore, in your choice, be led to such 
periods of history as leave least of artificial restraint on the human form. The 
dresses of ladies of the present day in this country, if they were generally less 
scanty, would be highly favourable to the display of grace or elegance; but the 
tight dresses of our men have nothing that can recommend them to the painter. In 
your inquiries and researches on this point, you will gain much valuable informa- 
tion from a work on the dresses of different nations, composed by Caesar Uceliio, 
illustrated by wooden gravings, after the drawings of his celebrated brother, Titian. 
You will also learn much, with regard to our own national habits, at different pe- 
riods, from the writings of Strutt. 



2.00 Cmichidhig Essni/, ,.jc. 

The grand, or Tieroic, is the highest style of painting in which I would recom- 
niend you to engage your exertions. It should generally be devoted to display 
and illustrate the dignified and benefi^cial properties of the human heart and mind. 
Courage, which remains tranquil amidst the shocks of accumulated adversity ; bra- 
very, which feels no danger in a ffood cnuse ; moderation in the middle of triumph- 
ant successes ; generous forbearance towards a fallen adversary — all these are sub- 
jects well suited to call forth the energies of the pencil with a view to grandeur 
of expression. But in any one of these subjects the principle may be carried ta 
an extreme that makes painting a disgustful instrument for recording events, which 
nothing but necessity could justify in the fact, and which the painter has no excuse 
for exhibiting. If the energies of painting be not employed for the purposes of 
good to man, they come to be only dangerous vices of the profession. 

One of the great sources of interest in subjects of this class will arise from the 
action represented, being incomplete,, and seeming to wait for its ultimate accom- 
plishmenton circumstances within tlie probability of immediate occurrence. If this 
be judiciously arranged iu.the picture, the spectator grow'S immoveable before it, by 
llio interest it excites in his heart, and at last is scarcely able to turn away, lest the 
catastrophe, so anxiously expected, should take place before he can return. 

Id grand or heroic pictures, moi'e than in any other, the practitioner requires 
a knowledge of the dresses and manners of different countries, at different epochas 
of their history, and also of different classes of persons in those countries. The 
hooks to which I have already referred will yield you much information with a view 
to your operations in this class ; and, for such as you may be inclined to take from 
the heroic or chivalrous ages of modern history, I would recommend to your 
^tudy the splendid collection of armour now arranged in Brook Street. 

ill the beautiful or the grand would be classed the pictures chosen from the pro- 
fane histories of heathen gods and goddesses. I should much wonder at these 
fal>les having been made so often the subjects of the painter's labours, did I not 
know how much time is spent, in early life, by young men, in learning to read those 
pernicious histories, instead of more important and useful information. There is 
jierhaps another circumstance, which probably leads to the frequency of such 
works in art. As they are supposed to refer to a period of the world, about which 



Concluding Essay, ^c. 291 

wc know nodiiiig Ijiit whal tlio poets have told us, llin ijuiiilur of tlieiii is left, willi- 
oiit restraint, to IIk; iti(lul^;;ciic(' of iiis own fanry ; and very little ijoncral kiiowiedgf, 
therefore, seems rec|uisil(,'. 'J'liat tlie licatlKMi fablos may sometimes fnrnihh to an 
elegantly-accomplished mind, suf-f^cstions for beautiful or even grand composition, 
I can conceive; but they will also, (though it can scarcely be necessary to remark 
it,) be very likely to lead often to the production of licentious i)icture. But if 
these men and women deities, of ancient mythology, must be- introduced at all, I 
would have them confined to their own periods and recorded transactions. I con- 
sider it as a great defect iu a picture, to introduce any of thcni aUegurically, to re- 
present virtues or vices in the histories of other times, especially those not abso- 
lutely heathen. I would illustrate this by referring to a picture, which the late 
Mr. Hamilton painted for the Shakspeare Gallery. It is from the play of " As 
you Like it," and represents the hvst introduction of Rosjilind to Orlando after her 
change of attire; and the painter has brought in young Hymen with bis torch, 
politely performing the office of gentleman usher, in order to shew that the parties 
•were going to be married. 

There is one class further, iu the kmds of subjects for painting, which I would 
call the terrific; and, it must be allowed, that when such works are really success- 
ful, they constitute the highest efibrts, of which the human mind is capable. Yet 
the difficulty is so great, the mental and manual powers necessary to success so 
very extensive, and at all times the risk so considerable of stepping into the ri- 
diculous, which closely borders on the sublime, that I could not advise you to at- 
tempt it. 

This point properly leads me to speak of the introduction of supernatural beings, 
as such, into your pictures. You are well aware,, that every idea in the mind is the 
copy or impression of some external object acting by means of the senses. With 
regard, therefore, to what we paint, it must be more or less the form of something 
that we have seen, or a combination of parts of various objects that we have seen. 
We have no idea of angels but as beautiful men or women, and we paint them as 
such ; though some eminent masters have thought it better to give them the heads 
and shoulders of one sex, and the bodies and limbs of the other. If we would 
pourtray figures of sprites, fairies, goblins, ghosts, or monsters, they will be but 

'2 p 2 



292 Concluding Essay, c^c. 

distortions of what we have seen in reality. The mind can combine its first im- 
pression to an indefinable extent; but it cannot invent, or create a single new idea. 
We must, therefijre, repeat here the principle with wliich we set out — that Uie true 
object of painting is to represent, by means of colours, on a smooth surface, objects 
and effects that have been, now are, or that might be in nature. 

But, after all the reason, all the study, all the acquisition of dexterous handling, 
or of mental accomplishments, there will be still one thing wanting to ensure com- 
plete and high success in painting. It is the influence of a constantly-acting 
motive, strong enough to ensure the full and persevering exercise of those various 
powers. The sculptors, amongst the ancient Greeks, are generally allowed to 
have carried their art to a higher degree of excellence than it has ever attained 
since ; and the reason, I think, is obvious. They were constantly employed in 
personifying supposed deities; and, as it is probable that, at that early period of 
the world, they were serious in the belief of their idolatrous worship, they would 
feel themselves called on to promote the cause and reverence of such gods, by the 
most impressive and beautiful representation. They might also fancy themselves 
inspired to great exertion by the gods they were thus preparing to honour, and 
their vanity too would come to assist, as soon as they perceived the inference drawn 
from such works by their countrymen: he who could make a god worthy to be 
worshipped, must be little less than divine himself. 

But, when the clouds of idolatrous profanation broke, and dispersed before the 
splendid light of Christian Revelation, marble, and ivory, and silver, and golden 
gods, were soon laid prostrate on the earth, out of which they were taken, and the 
sculptor's art was soon lost, for want of powerful motives. If we pass from this 
period over some ages, pregnant with good to mankind, yet properly called dark, 
\. ith regard to literature and the arts, we come to the time when the first council 
of Trent was assembled, to settle disputes between Pope Leo Isaurus and the 
Empress Irene. 

This council decreed that pictures might be introduced into churches and places 
of religious worship, and thus gave to the painter something like the sanne power- 
ful motive for exertion, which had produced excellence in the sculpture of the 
Greeks so many centuries before. This motive, it is true, was at first slow in its 



Concluding Ensai/, i^c. 293 

operation, owing to the general ignorance which followed tlie triumplitt of barbarous 
courage over voluptuous civilisation in the conquest of the Roman empire; but at 
length it f)ro<liiced Haphael, Correggio, and Titian, and all the great painters, whose 
works illuniinute, with unrivalled splendour, the greater part of the fourteenth and 
lifteenth centuries. But the simplicity of Protestant worship, which dreaded that 
again the mere representation might be superstitious))' mistaken for the reality, re- 
jected all pictures from places consecrated to the praise and service of God, and 
painting declined, as sculptures had done before, for want of motive, and is now 
acknowledged to be in a languid state. 

Suppose, then, you endeavour to give the art a new stimulus to great exertions ; 
for, it is evident, at least to me, that patronage is not wanting. Let me then per- 
suade you, from a patriotic feeling, to bestow all the time you devote to these arts 
in euibellishing the bright records of our national history, in shewing the heroism, 
the talents, the worth, and tjie power that arise out of British freedom : you may shew 
the early inhabitants of the island defending with undaunted courage their native 
shores against the disciplined conquerors of the world ; you may represent the 
' magnanimous Queen of the Iceni, nobly preferring death to bondage; you may ex- 
hibit the incomparable Alfred, great in adversity, humble, yet vigorous in trium- 
phant success, or, in the tranquillity of well-earned retirement, devising new and 
wise laws to bless his people. 1 would thus have you to follow the pages of our 
history down to these present days, if you can look without being dazzled at the 
splended brightness of our last great national achievements. I recommend this to 
you — I entreat it of you in the name of your country — a name so dear to British 
feelings. 

However, if this motive should not prove sufficiently powerful, even with the aid 
of your successful example, to raise the drooping arts in this country, and carry 
them to unexampled perfection, I would beg leave to propose to you another motive, 
which V trust will be irresistible ; you will find it in the practice of painting sacred, 
or scripture history. The subjects with which the Holy Scriptures will furnish you 
are all of llie beuutiftd or grand, because no circumstances are recorded in them, but 
such as have au eventful importance. If you prefer the beautiful to all other, 
you will find ample subject in the simple, heart-touching Book of Ruth, which has 



294 Co7ic] tiding Essay, ^-c. 

been dexterously copied by Thomson in his Seasons, thougli he has divested it of 
some of its most interesting circnmstances : if you wish for subjects of impressive 
grandeur, they are to be found in every part of the sacred writings. Tlie venerable 
Moses standing on tiio banks of the Red Sea, and with his endowed rod dividing 
the water for a whole nation to pass tlu-ough on dry ground, with tlie terrors, the 
affections, and circumstances, incidental to so novel a miracle, would afford matter 
for many pictures; or tlie defeat of the Amalekites, by Joshua, while the sun and 
moon were ordered to stand still till his victory was accomplished, might offer to 
your pencils one of the finest oj)portunities of combining a splendid landscape 
effect with a striking display of Jigures. 

But I would prefer hastening your consideration to that part of these writings, 
which gives the history of man's redemption. You will find in it for the purposes 
of picture, every thing that is tender in sentiment, every thing that is striking in 
combination, every thing that is awful in instruction. If you can be the instruments 
pf embodying and communicating this, in visible demonstrations to others, what 
may not be the amount of gratification to your own minds. You will rise step 
by step in subjects of this class, till you arrive at a grandeur of conception and 
performance that will even astonish yourselves. 

In conclusion, allow me to trust, that you will make serious use of the valuable 
Treatise now presented to you, and that you will direct the knowledge, which it 
may afford you, to the important purposes of judicious criticism, or the still more 
desirable object of actual and splendid achievement. 



W. M. CRAIG 

Charlotte Street, 
June 4, 1816. 



/ 



f / 



6874 



6874